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THE 



TWO PAKSONS; 



CIJPIFS SPOMS; THE DEEAM; 



AND 



THE JEWELS OE VIRGINIA. 



BY y 
GEOEGE WYTHE MUNFORD. 



WITH 

A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR. 




RICHMOND 
J. D. K. SLEIGHT, 1001 Main Street. 
1884. 






OOPYKIGHT 
BY 

Mks. e. t. munfokd. 

18S4. 



Primed by Bound t>y 

WmrTKT & SuKi'rKRSOS, Raxdolfh & Engli!>ii. 

Kichmoud, V:i. Kichmoud, Ta. 



THIS VOLUME 

IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 

TO 

THE SONS AND DAUGHTERS OF OLD VIRGINIA, 

WHOSE HEARTS ARE EVER LOYAL 
TO HER. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

BioGEAPHiCAii Sketch of the Authok, .... 9 

The Two Parsons : 

Chapter I, — Introduction of the Parsons, ... 23 

Chapter II. — Two Denominations in One, ... 36 
Chapter III. — Why they Preached together, and how they 

Disposed of their Fees, . . . . . . .50 

Chapter IV.— The Winston Family, .... 57 

Chapter V. — The Mamage of Jemmy Winston, . . 78 
Chapter VI. — Parson Buchanan Ministering to the Sick, . 93 
Chapter VII. — Parson Blair's Sermon, "I go a fishing," . 105 
Chapter VIII.— Dinner with Mr. Munford, . . .125 
Chapter IX. — Mr. Rutherfoord's connection with our Par- 
sons. — The Oratory of Samuel D. Denoon, . . . 138 
Chapter X. — Richmond Light Infantry Blues' Dinner, . 154 
Chapter XI. — Parson Blair's School for Boys, . . . 168 
Chapter XII. — Death of William Blak. — Sermon by Parson 

Buchanan, ......... 182 

Chapter XIII. — Election for Member of Congress, . . 202 
Chapter XIV. — Duel between Parson Buchanan and Colonel 

Tateham, 212 

Chapter XV. — The Partridge Hunt, and the Parson's Sermon 

on Hunting, 234 

Chapter XVI. — Parson Blair's Female Seminary, . . 265 
Chapter XVII. — Parson Buchanan's Mode of Discharging 

Parochial Duties. — The Cobbler and his Shoe, . . 276 



Viii COKTENTS. 

Chapter XVm. — Parson Blair's Dinner Party, . . . 289 

Chapter XIX.— The ImiDOsition upon Parson Buchanan, 

and how he turned it to advantage, .... 308 

Chapter XX. — Miss Lnly Ingledon Reading a Gentleman's 

Countenance, and giving him an Answer Unquestioned, 219 

Chapter XXI. — Dinner at Buchanan's Spring. — Barbecue 

Club, J^26 

Chapter XXII. — Mrs. Ingledon, Col. Eobert Brain tree and 

Mr. Thomas Clairborne, 342 

Chapter XXIII. —Parson Blaii-'s Snack. —Chancellor "Wythe, 357 

Chapter XXIV. — Mrs Ingledon and her Daughter. — A Par- 
lor Lecture. — Col. Brain tree and Miss Luly. — Our Thom 
and Little Luly, ........ 366 

Chapter XXV. — The Genealogy of the Braintrees, and the 

Arrangements for Col. Braintree's Wedding, . . . 380 

Chapter XXVI. — Unexpected Interview between Little . 

Luly and Mr. Claiborne, 393 

Chapter XXVII. — The Assembling of the Guests at the 

Marriage, 404 

Chapter XXVin.— Chancellor Wythe's Death. . . .41^ 

Chapter XXIX.— The Richmond Academy and the Burn- 
ing of the Theatre, 434 

Chapter XXX.— Conclusion of the Wlaole Matter, . . 450 

Cupid's Sports. — No. I., 470 

No. II., 485 

" " No. in., 506 

No. IV., 520 

The Dream, 535 

The Jewels of VrRGnsriA, 542 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR. 



COLONEL GEORGE WYTHE MUNFORD, the author 
of the sketches contained in this vohime, was for more 
than half a century well known, as an accomplished public 
officer in the legislative and executive departments of the 
State. His reputation as a literary man has been confined 
to (comparatively) a small circle of intimate friends, who 
thoroughly appreciated his varied talents. The following- 
publication will, we trust, introduce him to a much wider 
circle, and give those who were acquainted with him only in 
his public capacity, an opportunity to know and admire him 
in the more endearing relations of private life. 

"We propose to select from a variety of notices, running- 
through an extended period, a few paragraphs, which will 
give to those who are not familiar with his services in the 
councils of the State, and with his social qualities, a just es- 
timate of his character as a citizen, of his ability as a states- 
man, and of his virtues as a patriot and Christian. 

We present from the correspondence proposing his name 
as a candidate for the office of governor, in 1863, such ex- 
tracts as will furnish, in a concise form, many striking par- 
ticulars of his public and private career, and show the esteem 
in which he was held by those who knew him best. 

A letter was addressed to him by a number of influential 
gentlemen of Richmond— representative men of all parties. 
After sketching the circumstances of the times and the peril- 
ous condition of public affairs, they say : 

" At so troublous an epoch in our history, the man who 



10 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

should uphold the sovereignty and protect the interests of 
the State, should possess a deep and abiding affection for 
Virginia, an inflexible resolution never to see her integrity 
impaired, a thorough acquaintance with her resources and 
the genius and temper of her people, a large knowledge of 
the science, and a ready familiarity with the practical details 
of government, and a character above reproach. Believing 
that you combine these qualities in an eminent degree, and 
recognizing the invaluable and distinguished services you 
have rendered the State in many posts of usefulness through 
a long series of years, we ask authority to place your name 
before the people of Virginia for their suffrages as the next 
governor of the State. These are no days for party nomi- 
nations or party conventions, and we flatter ourselves with 
the hope that your name brought forward in this way will 
secure the vote of a decisive majority of your fellow-citizens." 

In response to this letter. Colonel Munford gives concisely 
some of his views upon public afiairs : 

"Proud of Virginia's ancient renown, zealous that her 
present should equal her former fame, recognizing but one 
Virginia, and that containing all her peoj)le and her whole 
territory, I give my heart and mind to maintain and perpet- 
uate her integrity unimpaired. 

" I am a strict constructionist, with the constitution as my 
compass and chart ; believing it to be the duty of the execu- 
tive faithfully to execute, not to make laws ; not to usurp 
the prerogative of the Legislature, nor to interfere with the 
just action of the judiciary. 

" I am an advocate of State rights ; opposed to consolida- 
tion of powers in the federative system. I would, if I could, 
restrain the Confederate government within its appropriate 
functions. It has enough to do to secure our independence 
without violating personal rights. It has enough to do to 
attend to its external relations ; to smooth the way for in- 
tercourse with foreign nations ; to care for and provide ad- 
equate supplies for our patriotic and glorious armies. It has 
enough to do to provide an adequate revenue, and to curtail 
its redundant currency, leaving the States to attend to their 



OF THE AUTHOR. 11 

internal affairs, ample for their noblest exertions ; leaving 
individuals free to regulate their own pursuits, unstimulated 
by governmental aids, unseduced by governmental bribes, 
unawed by the exercise of unwarrantable powers. I will 
give to the President a zealous co-operation, confiding in 
his talents, fidelity, patriotism, firmness, and Christianity." 

In the following extracts from a letter urging the nomi- 
nation of Colonel Munford, Ex-Governor (then General) 
Henry A. Wise, the distinguished patriot and statesman, 
thus outlines his public and private character : 

'' Colonel George Wythe Munford is here presented as a 
candidate for the office of governor. At a time when Vir- 
ginia needs the best talents and the experience, skill and 
counsel of her truest and most devoted sons, such a nomi- 
nation, it is hojied, will be generally acceptable. 

" His claims for promotion are the best foundation for the 
State's claim to his services. He has been intimately con- 
nected with the public affairs of Virginia for nearly forty 
years. He has at his fingers' ends the rolls of her legisla- 
tion ; he has been the keeper of the journal of the reforms 
of her organic law ; he has, as commissioner of the Sinking 
Fund, been officially obliged to scan her fisc with the accu- 
racy of a calculator and a critic ; he has practised her whole 
system of militia organization ; he has had to state the ac- 
counts and pay-rolls of her claims and pensions, and the cat- 
alogue of her library, and to conduct her international ex- 
changes ; he has had to supervise the audits and settlements 
of her literary and monument funds ; he has lately revised 
all her statutes ; and he has been her Secretary of State, in- 
timately counselling her executive administration, for a long 
series of years. In offices with very moderate, if not inade- 
quate, pay, he has waited assiduously, and often extra-offici- 
ally on her people ; he is universally known and greatly ajj- 
proved in all the places he has filled and yet fills ; he is 
thoroughly acquainted with the capabilities of the Common- 
wealth, and with the genius and wishes and instincts, and 
even prejudices of her people; and he is intus et in cute, a 
Virginian, beloved of Virginians, inbued with their genius, 



12 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

tlieir wishes, their instincts, their prejudices, their pride^ 
their passions, their grace, and their glory ! 

" He is unambitious, except to serve and be useful, and 
has served and been useful a long time in subordinate places. 
He is now in the full maturity of his talents. Though time 
has silvered his head, his energies are yet vigorous as ever, 
and now, as they have been for many years, are incessantly 
exerted to do his part well, in the brightest of sunny days 
as in the night and gloom of the storm which palsies some 
and appalls almost all. 

" Colonel Munford is a gentleman in the true sense — ur- 
bane, even-tempered, calm, patient,honest, just, firm, manly, 
and liberal. He is a scholar of classical education, and 
amidst all his practical life has cultivated, not unsuccessfully, 
the field of polite literature. He is an alumnus of the ven- 
erable college of William and Mary, with her degree of 
Bachelor of Law. 

" At the beginning of the session of the General Assembly 
in 1825 he was elected clerk of the House of Delegates, to 
which oifice he was re-elected at each succeeding session for 
twenty-seven years by unanimous votes. And in December, 
1852, he was elected by the General Assembly Secretary of 
the Commonwealth. On the last day of his service as clerk, 
the House of Delegates unanimously adopted a resolution 
tendering to him their thanks for the prompt, able, and im- 
partial manner in which, for twenty-seven years, he had 
discharged the unportant and responsible duties of that 
office. 

" On the 5th of October, 1829, he was elected Secretary of 
the State Convention called to revise the Constitution. Of 
this Convention Mr. Ritchie, in his preface to the Report of 
their Proceedings and Debates, says : 

" ' Much of what was venerable for years and long service; 
many of those who were most respected for their wisdom 
and their eloquence, two of the ex-presidents of the United 
States, the Chief-Justice of the United States, several of 
those who had been most distinguished in Congress or the 
State Legislature, on the bench or at the bar, were brought 



OF THE AUTHOR. , 13 

together for the momentous purpose of laying anew the fun- 
damental law of the land. ' 

" This office he resigned, after a service of two months, 
having been then re-elected, for the fifth time, Clerk of the 
House of Delegates. In his letter of resignation he states 
that, so long as the sessions of the Convention and the House 
would not have conflicted, he would, with pleasure, have 
served both, without receiving double compensation. 

" But brief as was his 'association with the Convention of 
1829-'30, it brought him into contact with some of the fore- 
most men of their time, and their proceedings and debates 
taught him lessons of jurisprudence and law making, and 
held before his eyes examples of wisdom and virtue in the 
art of governing, the like of which we may well pray for 
again. He could not but be inspired by their spirit ; he 
could not but be enlightened by the illumination of such 
minds ; he could not but be made more wisely patriotic by 
the dignified deliberations of such fathers and founders of 
civil liberty, of social order, and of constitutional guarantees. 

" Since he entered upon the duties of Secretary of the Com- 
monwealth, he has filled, either e.e-ojficio or by special ap- 
pointment, various other offices. 

" In March, 1860, the duty of revising the Code of Virginia 
■was devolved on him by law, and he has executed his task 
to the entire satisfaction of the bench and the bar. 

" Thus he has been required to fill many important but still 
subordinate offices. All of them, and most of them together, 
he has filled with ability, assiduity, punctuality, accuracy and 
dignity. And when we look at the nature of the offices, they 
are all such exactly as train a man for the comprehensive 
views and various details required in the executive office, 
which superintends them all. With the legislation, with the 
forms, with tlie history of accounts and claims, he is more 
familiar than any other man. And with the larger subjects 
he has had to labor still harder and more constantly. He 
knows all our liabilities, all oui* resources, all our expedients 
for punctual preservation of State honor, and he knows how 
to detect the tricks of money-changers, and the frauds of 



14 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 

claimants. Himself economical, lie lias jealously watched 
others who would plunder, either by corruption or extrava- 
gance. There is not a subject of the State's policy with 
which George Wythe Munford is not habitually familiar, and 
with which he has not been practically familiar for twenty- 
five years. What man living can justly lay claim to so large 
and long, so comprehensive and yet so minute, an experience ? 
What better mau, then, is there to be found for the office of 
governor ? 

"Is there any personal objection to him? His private is 
even more exemplary and commendable than his public life. 
He is of an old stock, and a good old Virginia stock. In 
manners, morals, and principles, as well as by birth and ed- 
ucation, he is a gentleman. In all those more intimate and 
tender relations which bind him to family, friends, kindred, 
and servants, he is all that friendship could ask, or affection 
claim, or humanity and kindness enjoin. 

" Is he agreeable in his office ? Go and ask Governors 
Johnson, Wise, and Letcher what a valuable officer and in- 
valuable friend in office he was and is ! Go and ask the 
Legislatures of his time, their members and committees, of 
what use he is, and ever has been, and how he has volun- 
teered to serve them with counsel and labor ! Go to the 
four winds of the State, and ask every poor pensioner and 
claimant and petitioner for pardon, how many calls of theirs 
he has answered with much labor without pay ! Go to the 
Treasurer, Auditors, and the whole persoiiel of the executive 
service, and enquire how much aid he has rendered them ! 
And ask everywhere, whether he has an enemy ? If he has 
none, is he a sycophant to all ? Not one can be found to 
say so. All will say he is no time-server — he is a State- 
server. Why then should be, who has been careful and 
faithful in few and comparatively small things, not be made 
ruler in many and great things?" 

In addition to the Code of 1860, referred to by Governor 
Wise and published by the Legislature upon his recommen- 
dation, which was known as the second edition of the Code 
of Virginia, it became apparent, in 1873, to Colonel Munford, 



OF THE AUTHOR. 15 

that a third edition of the Code was indispensable, and in a 
letter to the General Assembly of that year he assigned the 
following reasons for a new Code : 

" The entire change in the organic law since that time 
(1860), the revolution through which the Commonwealth has 
passed ; the dissolution of the connection with the govern- 
ment of the United States by the ordinance of the secession 
convention ; her independent existence prior to her union 
with the government of the Confederate States ; her subse- 
quent union with that government, and the adoption of its 
constitution ; the continuation of the State government at 
Richmond during the whole war ; the successful establish- 
ment of the restored government for the State at Wheeling ; 
the action of its legislative and executive authorities there ; 
the ordinances and acts of the convention at Wheeling ; the 
organization of the State of West Virginia within the estab- 
lished boundaries of this State ; the assent of the restored 
government to the formation of the new State, and its final 
reception into the Union by the Congress of the United 
States, recognizing the dismemberment of the State, and 
authorizing the representation of the new State in the Sen- 
ate and Hoiise of Representatives ; the removal of the re- 
stored government from Wheeling to Alexandria ; the acts 
of the Legislature there; the assembling of a convention, 
which adopted a new constitiition for the government of the 
State under these auspices ; the resumption of the powers 
and functions of the restored government at the close of 
hostilities in the city of Richmond, sustained and supported 
by the Federal troops ; the subsequent destruction of that 
government under the reconstruction acts of Congress, sub- 
jecting the State to military rule and authority as Military 
District, No. 1 ; the permission given by Congress to the 
State to form again a new constitution, and the authority 
granted to elect members to a convention for that purpose ; 
the action of that convention by its ordinances and resolu- 
tions ; the submission of that constitution for approval to 
Congress ; the proclamation of the President of the United 
States extending to the people the right to ratify or reject 



16 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

the coustitutiou itself, or specified clauses in that coustitu- 
tion ; the ratification of the constitution by the people, and 
the rejection of the two clauses submitted to them ; the ap- 
proval of the constitution afterwards by Congress, upon 
condition of the adoption of the fourteenth and fifteenth 
amendments to the Federal constitution, and of certain other 
provisions ; the final reception of senators and representa- 
tives from this State in Congress, and the action of the Gen- 
eral Assembly since, to adapt the laws of the State to the 
new constitution, fundamentally changing the political and 
civil structure of the government; all combined have ren- 
dered the laws so chaotic and conflicting in many instances, 
and produced such radical changes by amendments and re- 
peal, that the citizens of the State find it impossible to know 
what the laws are under which they live ; and it requires the 
deejDCst research and investigation of the bar and the judici- 
ary to ascertain the law as it is, and then to construe it cor- 
rectly and satisfactorily. 

"Under these circumstances, I have prepared another 
edition of the Code, and I offer it to the General Assembly 
for publication and distribution to the officers of government 
for such remuneration as it may deem just. I have encoun- 
tered great difficulty in its preparation, and have spared 
neither time nor care in the work, my undivided aim having 
been to make it as correct as the materials at my disposal 
would justify. 

" I have prefaced the constitution as it now exists with an 
epitomized historical account of the revolution through Avhich 
the State has passed, (which I believe will be of great use in 
future,) acd have made many notes to other chapters, show- 
ing the changes made in the polity and government of the 
Commonwealth. I have endeavoured to do this without bias 
or prejudice. I propose, if the General Assembly shall deem 
the work worthy of publication, to insert in their projaer 
places such amendments to the laws as may be adopted at 
the present session." 

The entire subject Avas referred, in both branches of the 
General Assembly, to the judiciary committee, and an act 



OF THE AUTHOR. 17 

was passed unanimously iu each house, providing for the 
publication of the new edition of the Code of Virginia, known 
since and now as the Code of 1873. 

MEMOEIAL SERVICES IN THE LEGISLATURE. 

The House of Delegates of Virginia adopted the following 
resolutions : 

" Whereas, The House of Delegates has been informed of 
the death of Colonel George Wythe Munford, who for a 
quarter of a century was Clerk of this House, and for more 
than fifty years filled various oflfices of honor and trust under 
the government of this Commonwealth, with distinguished 
ability and exemj)lary fidelity — 

^'Resolved \st, That a committee of five be appointed to 
draft suitable resolutions of respect in honor of the memory 
of Colonel George Wythe Munford, to be entered on the 
journal of this House. 

" Resolved 'ind^ That this House adjourn at 2 p. m. in re- 
spect to the memory of Colonel Munford, for the purpose of 
attending his funeral." 

The committee made the following report to the House of 
Delegates of Virginia, January 12, 1882 : 

" The committee appointed to prepare resolutions of re- 
spect in honor of the memory of Colonel George Wythe Mun- 
ford, beg leave to submit the following report : 

" George Wythe Manford was born in the city of Rich- 
mond, Virginia, on the 8th day of January, 1803. He was 
named Iq honor of the distinguished Chancellor Wythe, the 
intimate friend of his father, William Munford, Esq. He in- 
herited from his father, who was a man of great native abil- 
ity and high literary and legal attainments, that strength of 
mind and fondness for intellectual labor which were his life- 
long characteristics. Reared in the refining and cultivating 
atmosjihere of a Virginia home of the olden time, all the 
faculties of his nature were developed and rounded into a 
symmetrical model of the Christian gentleman. He com- 
pleted his classical education at the college of William and 



18 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

Mary, that venerable alma mater, to whom the nation and the 
State are indebted for so many of the brightest names that 
adorned their annals in the past. After graduating at Wil- 
liam and Mary College, he entered upon the study of the law, 
with the purpose of devoting his life to the practice of that 
profession. But he was called to another sphere of useful- 
ness. He was employed b}^ his father, at that time Clerk of 
the House of Delegates, to assist him in discharging the 
duties of that office. On the death of his father, in 1825, he 
was elected to succeed him as Clerk of the House. With 
what accuracy and diligence he fulfilled the duties of his of- 
fice, the journal of this House bears most conclusive testi- 
mony. For more than twenty-five years he kept that jour- 
nal in a manner that does credit to his skill and industry. 
When the Convention of 1829 assembled, Colonel Munford's 
reputation as Clerk of the House of Delegates secured his 
election as secretary of that body. In that capacity he was 
thrown into daily contact with James Monroe, James Madi- 
son, John Marshall. William B. Giles, John Randolph, Abel 
P. Upshur, and the many other distinguished men who were 
members of that Convention. 

" In this way Colonel Munford became more thoroughly 
acquainted with the public men of Virginia, and her political 
history, than any other man of his generation 

"After his long service as Clerk of this House, he was 
elected Secretary of the Commonwealth. In that office he 
continued to serve with marked ability until the fall of the 
Confederacy destroyed the autonomy of the State. 

" For several years after the war Colonel Munford lived in 
the county of Gloucester, in the midst of a most interesting 
family, and surrounded by a large circle of devoted relatives 
and friends. 

" After the re establishment of the civil government of the 
people of Virginia, Colonel Munford was appointed clerk of 
the committee of this House for courts of justice : and his 
thorough familiarity with the history of the legislation of 
this State, his legal acquirements, and his unsurpassed abil- 



OF THE AUTHOR. 19 

ity as a draughtsman of bills, rendered bis services in that 
capacity eminently valuable. 

" Subsequently he occupied a position in the office of the 
First Auditor, and more recently he held an appointment in 
the Census Bureau at Washington. 

" During all this long period of public service Colonel 
Munford maintained the same high standard of official duty, 
performing the functions of every office incumbent upon 
him with unswerving honor and fidelity, and thorough ef- 
ficiency. 

"In addition to these labours in the service of the State, 
Colonel Munford succeeded in accomplishing a task which 
probably no other man would have attempted, on account 
of the magnitude of the undertaking, and the painstaking 
application it would impose. We refer to his great and suc- 
cessful labors in compiling and editing the Code of Virginia 
of 1860, and afterwards in publishing the Code of 1873. 

" These works will stand for ever as imperishable monu- 
ments to his fame, bearicg witness to his ability and exten- 
sive information. In the paths of general literature, also, 
Colonel Munford made several efforts, which showed unusual 
gifts as an author. In looking back over his loDg life, which 
came to a close at his residence in Richmond, Virginia. Jan- 
uary 10th, 1882, we may well say : 

" ' He was indeed 

A pillar of State ; deep on his front engraved 

Deliberation sat, and public care. 

And princely counsel in his face did shine majestic' 

" In honor of his memory, we recommend the adoption of 
the following resolutions : 

" Resolved, That in the death of Colonel George Wythe 
Munford, the Commonwealth of Virginia has lost a loyal 
son, who devoted the best dajs of bis life to her service ; 
one whose mind was stored with useful knowledge ; who 
knew how to say what was best to say. and what was best to 
do ; whose whole life was but the expression of the goodness, 
wisdom, and purity of his heart and soul ; and who, in all 



20 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

the relations of life, was the honorable and honored gentle- 
man. 

" Resolved, That this memorial of Colonel George Wythe 
Muuford be entered on the journal of this House, and that 
the Clerk be directed to transmit a copy to his family." 

The report was unanimously agreed to. 

PORTRAIT OF COLONEL MUNFORD. 

On the 5th of October, 1875, a portrait of Colonel Mun- 
ford, executed by Elder, of this city, was presented to the 
Secretary of the Commonwealth, General James McDonald, 
for the gallery of distinguished Virginians in the State Li- 
brary. 

General McDonald, in acknowledging the present, says : 
" It gives me sincere picture to be able, through the liber- 
ality and thoughtfulness of Mrs. Munford and you.rself, to 
place the portrait of your brother. Colonel George AV. Mun- 
ford, in our gallery of those who have deserved well of the 
State. His long i^ublic service, characterized through its 
whole course by singular j&delity and efficiency, and illus- 
trated by a purity on which the breath of suspicion has never 
blown, will stand as a high and enduring example for those 
who come after him, of duty well performed, and merit pro- 
perly appreciated." 

MEMORIAL RESOLUTIONS OF THE R. L. I. BLUES. 

At a meeting of the R. L. I. Blues, held at their armory, 
January 30th, 1882, the following resolutions were unani- 
mously adopted : 

'■ Whereas, It has pleased God to take from us a beloved 
comrade and former commander, therefore be it 

"■ JRe solved. That in the death of George Wythe Munford 
this command has lost one of the truest men upon its rolls, 
the community a beloved and honored member, and the State 
one of its best citizens and most faithful public servants. 
By a life which, in private, was singularly lovable and pure, 
and in its public acts useful, disinterested, and patriotic, he 
has left an example most worthy of the emulation of all his 



OF THE AUTHOR. 21 

fellow-citizens, especially of the members of this organization, 
to which he was sincerely attached from his early manhood 
to the hour of his death. 

" That in performing the sad office of bearing him to his 
grave, we have felt a deep sense of personal loss, and pain- 
fully realized that his death has broken another connecting 
link in the chain binding us to the past record of this comr 
mand. 

" Colonel Munford was the type, and his name the synonym, 
of all that made the Richmond Blues of the past the beloved 
representative of the manhood and hospitality of Richmond, 
and the Blues of the present peculiarly the object of the af- 
fection of many of her citizens. Twice commander of the 
Company, and resigning against the protest of every mem- 
ber, he never ceased, in war or peace, to evince the liveliest 
interest in all things concerning it, and when elected first 
President of the Blues' Association, at an age when most 
men who had attained his station and were surrounded by 
his cares, would have lost interest in the Company, he en- 
tered upon the duties of his office with his old-time fervor, 
and elevated the organization with that grace and dignity 
which had always given him such influence and so endeared 
him to his old command. 

" That the sympathy of this command be tendered to his 
family, and a copy of these resolutions be spread upon the 
minutes, and another copy be sent to his family." 

In the December number of the Southern Historical So- 
ciety Papers, we find the following tribute from its editor, 
the Rev. J. Wm. Jones, T>. D. : 

•'The death of Colonel George Wythe Munford, which 
occurred suddenly at his residence in Richmond, on the 
night of January 9tb, 1882, has caused universal sorrow, an<i 
leaves many a vacant place which had been so well filled by 
this accomplished Virginia gentleman. Others have fitly 
spoken his eulogy as the able, incorruptible, efficient State 
officer, the good citizen, and the man above reproach in all 
of the relations of life. 



•22 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR. 

" We shall miss him, especially as one of the most punctual, 
genial and efficient members of our Executive Committee, 
one of the most devoted Confederates, and one whose facile 
pen had made valuable contributions to our history. At the 
Te organization of the Society in 1873, he was elected Secre- 
tary and Treasurer, and filled the office with marked ability 
until the winter of 1874, when other pressing duties impelled 
him to resign. 

" Full of years, f till of labors, full of honors, this Virginia 
gentleman of the old school leaves behind him a stainless 
record and a hallowed memory." 

We could multiply similar testimonials to the memory of 
the noble and beloved author of these reminiscences of dis- 
tinguished Virginians of the past ; but the foregoing will 
suffice to give to those who wish to know him a fair estimate 
of the esteem in which his character and public services were 
held by his friends and fellow- citizens. 



THE TWO PARSONS. 



CHAPTER I. 

INTKODIICTION OF THE PAESONS. 

IN the city of Richmond, in the olden time, there lived 
in friendly and fraternal intercom'se two Parsons, 
whom we desire to introduce to our readers. They w^ere 
Christians in spirit and in truth, were animated with 
cheerful dispositions and benevolent liearts. They de- 
lighted in promoting the happiness of others, and in be- 
stowing their lil)eral charities on the poor and destitute. 
They were ministers of undoubted piety, devoted to the 
cause of religion, and justly admired, revered and beloved 
by the whole community. With minds well stored with 
erudition and full of classic lore, lighted with the vivid 
thoughts and inspirations of the best prose writers, and 
the lively imagery of the greatest poets, they could inter- 
weave the grave and the gay so harmoniously, as to please, 
captivate and instruct; and there was an ease and charm 
in their conversation in private, that fascinated the young, 
and drew around them all classes and ages with irresisti- 
ble power. Nothing pleased them more than to see their 
flocks gay and happy, and to promote and partake of 
such feelings within proper bounds. The most remark- 
able circumstance in their history was, that though 
preachers of different denominations, one being an Epis- 



24 THE TWO PARSONS. 

copalian and the other a Presley terian, they harmonionsly 
worshipped together with one and the same congrega- 
tion, occupying the same pnlpit on alternate Sundays, 
and preaching in the same hall; keeping steadily in view 
the improvement of the lives and morals of their flock, 
and the regeneration and salvation of sinners. 

In the true spirit of religious toleration, while using 
severally the diiferent forms prescribed by the formularies 
of their own denominations, and respecting the peculiar 
views of their church members, yet by precept and ex- 
ample they avoided all things which could by possibility 
divide or disunite them, or engender strife and dissatisfac- 
tion. 

If a stranger should have asked in those days, who 
these good men were, every citizen of Richmond without 
hesitation would have answered. Parson Buchanan and 
Parson Blair, and would have told you €07i amor'e, little 
incidents in their lives, recalling pleasing traits of charac- 
ter full of mirth and humor, evincing simplicity of man- 
ner, a natural playfulness and flow of genial spirit, and a 
•sweetness of temper, more attractive in ministers of the 
gospel than in others. 

It is one of the pleasing reminiscences of by-gone days, 
to see in the mind's eye, an old gentleman of Scottish 
descent and a pleasant slightly Scottish accent, walking 
along the street with his hands behind him, his head 
covered with a broad brimmed hat; on his person, an old- 
fashioned black coat, full, broad, and coming to the knee, 
with wide lappels on the pockets; a long vest, reaching 
nearly to the hips, with a pair of shorts, having wide 
silver buckles at the knees; with long stockings and 
broad shoes clasped with silver buckles in front ; to see 
the little girls in the street, coming from school, running 
to him and kissing him with all the fervor of fearless, 
joyous, uncontaminated youth; and to see him leading 



INTRODUCTION OF THE PARSONS. 25 

them by the hand, and hear them laughing together as 
merry as crickets; and especially, to see him rummaging 
in his pockets, first in this and then in that, to prolong 
the anticipation, and distributing all around in playful 
manner and with a happy face, the bon-bons and little 
confections, with which those pockets were generally 
filled. It was ecpially grateful to see him in an arm- 
chair at Parson Blair's house, having on his knee Parson 
Blair's little son William, smoothing down with his 
velvety hands the curly brown liair of the little boy, soft 
as the down of a dove ; and cheering that delicate, pale 
face, weak as it was, though the sparkling eyes, preco- 
ciously vivid from disease, animated the countenance. It 
was most charming to see the little boy looking with 
eager anxiety into the good man's face w'hile he amused 
him recounting the presents he had stored away for him, 
and particularly when he said he had a nice little bay colt 
for him, with a white star in his forehead, and intended 
to send him such a splendid little whip, with silver head 
and silken lash, and a beautiful pair of elegant gold spurs, 
and as fine a little saddle and bridle, with silver tips, as 
ever were seen ; and how^ he would saddle his old mare, 
Zephyr, and put the pretty little saddle and bridle on the 
colt; and smacking his lips, recount how they would ride 
together to the confectioner's and buy their pockets full 
of elegant iced cakes and cream candies, and get a little 
basket full of the juiciest oranges, and sweetest apples, 
and ripest grapes, and richest figs, and so many other 
good things ; and then to hear him sowing the good seed, 
by telling the little one what a good boy you will be, and 
how many good things you will give your brothers and 
sisters ; and how you will be so kind to everybody ; and 
how the angels in heaven wili love you, and God, on His 
golden throne, will bless and keep you from all danger 
and harm. It is an especial happiness to know that 
2 



26 THE TWO PARSONS. 

SO good a man had an abundance of this world's goods 
and comforts to render him easy and contented all his 
days, and to furnish him with the means to contribute to 
the comfort and happiness of others as was his habit. 
And then, again, it was a real pleasure, such as one does 
not meet with every day, to walk into the old capitol in 
Richmond, into the hall of the House of Delegates, for 
it was there that these worthy men dispensed tlie word 
of God, and to look at the large congregation of the 
elite of the city of that day, promiscuously seated on 
the plain benches, with M'hich the hall was then furnished ; 
to notice the still plainer temporary pulpit placed on the 
clerk's table in the midst of the hall, and to be attracted 
by the same figure, in the plain dress we have described, 
without robe or surplice, and without ostentation or dis- 
play, coming forward and ascending this pulpit. It was 
a pleasure to mark his manner, the reverence with which 
he knelt when he invoked God's blessing on himself and 
his congregation. It was a joy to hear him in his clear, 
distinct, harmonious tones proclaiming, " The Lord is in 
His holy temple, let all the earth keep silence before 
Him!" Such a sentence, thus spoken, with an emphasis 
on the proper words and a solemnity proceeding from the 
heart, tells you the speaker is aware of the import of his 
words, and believes in the presence of the Deity; and he 
never fails to excite in his audience a feeling of awe and 
reverence far beyond the eifect produced by ordinary 
speakers on such occasions. This good man was the 
Rev. John Buchanan, of the Episcopal Church ; the best 
reader of the morning service we have ever had the 
pleasure to hear. His mellow voice, improved by the 
slight Scotch accent on a few words, sounded like the 
deep notes of a sweet toned flute, and his refined ear for 
cadence and sense, gave an emphasis and effect to what 
he uttered, that remained long afterwards deeply im- 



INTRODUCTION OF THE PARSONS. 27 

pressed upon the memory. He read poetry with a feel- 
ing and sublimity we have never heard surpassed; totally 
devoid of affectation or effort to produce stage effect ; and 
the beauty consisted in the perfect simplicity of the style. 
It is now one of the most agreeable of our boyish re- 
collections to recall the animation, the fervor and the 
pathos with which he would give out for singing: 



Or, 



"All glorious God, what hymns of praise 
Shall our transported voices raise;" 

"The spacious firmament on high. 
With all the blue ethereal sky, 
And spangled heavens, a starry frame, 
Their great Original proclaim." 

His taste in the selection of hymns and psalms was 
eminently chaste, and his ear for music never at fault. 
We shall see in his friendly intercourse with Parson 
Jjlair, and in their boyish playfuhiess together, that both 
of them, in a pleasant way, indulged sometimes in invok- 
ing the aid of the muses. 

It is equally a pleasure to recall the scenes in which 
the friend and co-labourer of tliis good man moved; to 
see him in private, encircled by his large and interesting 
family, gathering around him friends and neighbours who 
were gems in tliemselves, the whole circle hospital)le, 
sociable and kind, enjoying together free and unrestrained 
intercourse. He was tall and spare, with a grave looking 
face, not indicating the merriment that lurked within, 
and a solemn mien that could not restrain his keen sense 
of the ludicrous and that constantly, in his playful moods, 
provoked to mirth and laughter. His dress was equally 
plain with Parson Buchanan's, but of more modern style 
consisting of a full suit of black, without extra cut or 
finish to indicate his profession, and a walking cane, a 



28 THE TWO PARSONS. 

present from a friend, which he prized very highl3^ In 
returning thanks for the present he said : 

It's as handsome a cane as can be, 
As smooth and as shining as glass, 

But the people will never see me 
For eyeing my cane as they pass. 

It was not only a walking cane, but a jointed fishing 
rod, the joints screwing one into the other, which the 
good man used on many a pleasant fishing excursion. 
He was a ripe scholar, a profound thinker and reasoner, 
of deep research, rich in historical allusions, and with a 
vivid imagination, deliirhtino- in the beauties of ancient 
and modern poetry. His sermons, which were published 
at a later period, after his death, would not give a true 
insight into the character of his mind or elocution; be- 
cause, as is admitted in the preface of that publication,, 
those sermons were in truth rather full notes of the solid 
parts of his discourse, which he always embellished and 
made interesting by incidents, illustrations and beautiful 
imagery, with which he tilled up this outline, chaining 
his hearers to his subject by tlie ornaments and colouring- 
thrown in at tlie moment of delivery. He often said 
there was more real poetry in the Bible, grander and 
more sublime, than all the poets together could exhibit. 
And when descanting on the immensity and omnipo- 
tence of God he would say, " what is more beautiful and 
awfully sublime than the language of Isaiah in his 40th 
chapter, 12th to the 26th verses ? and would add for him- 
self: . *- 

" Who is that mighty being in whose hand 
The seas are measured and the heavens are spann'd ?" 

These are some of the characteristics of this excellent 
divine. It is the outline portrait of the Bev. John D. 



INTRODUCTION OF THE PARSONS. 29 

Blair; the shading and coloring will be thrown in as we 
advance. We cannot help saying that the congregations 
who Mere blessed with two such ministers had every rea- 
son to be thankful. Of all the friends we have ever 
seen, these two were the most devoted, loving one another 
like Jonathan and David. There was scarcely a day in 
which they did not meet, either at their own houses, or at 
those of friends, with whom they mutually associated. 

We have said that Parson Buchanan was of Scottish 
descent and had a pleasant Scottish accent. His way of 
talking reminded us of the pleasure we experienced in 
reading the earlier novels of Walter Scott, in which the 
Scottish dialect and the natural way in which his Scotch 
characters speak, contributed in a great measure to the 
pleasantry of the conversations with which we are enter- 
tained. One of the charms of the good Parson's manner 
and conversation was the perfect simplicity with which 
he spoke, the freedom from restraint, the off-hand cordial 
way that unlocked any barred door that might keep timid 
people at a distance. It is the "An' where hae ye been ? 
an' what hae ye been doin' ? an' what for did ye na write 
till us?" style, showing an interest in you as attractive 
as it is kind. He was born in Scotland, in the year 1 743. 
We know that he graduated as Master of Arts at the 
University of Edinburgh; and the man upon wliom a 
degree of that sort was conferred in those days possessed 
rather more of the general knowledge which appertained 
to that high degree, than is acquired by the superficial 
skimming and craramino; which enables one to obtain 
such a degree in too many cases in more modern times. 
His friends were urgent for him to enter into the profes- 
sion of the law, and desired him to commence its practice 
in his native countr3% He became, therefore, a close 
student; and as one of the means to insure success, 
studied all the graces and beauties of delivery, particularly 



30 THE TWO PARSONS. 

the ease and simplicity of reading and speaking. He 
read as he spoke, he emphasized as he felt, he paused 
long enough to let his hearers take in the thought, and 
as he warmed them up and occasion required, lie would 
let his sentences smoothly flow, or rush like a torrent. 
Some good men, as soon as they open the Bible, seem to 
think that they must assume a tone, a sins-sona:, mon- 
otonous, dolorous, dove-like coo, that would be irresist- 
ible in lulling to delicious repose, but never yet roused 
the mind to think or take in an idea. Others run sen- 
tences into each other without regard to stops or senti- 
ment — tear passion into tatters, and give you noise for 
thunder — but the electric flash is neither seen nor felt. 
There are men of talents at this day who excel in the 
dove-like coo, and thus place their candle under a busliel, 
and dim it as effectually as if it was extinguished. There 
is not a personal friend who will venture to liint to them 
that they possess this musical quality. We go out of our 
way to give them this information gratis, and to advise 
them, if they cannot give up their music, at least to re- 
collect how Parson Buchanan encliained the attention of 
his hearers, by music of a different character, sweet, na- 
tural, and fervid. 

He became satisfied, however, that the practice of the 
law did not suit his taste, and resolved to give it up. In 
accordance with this resolution he determined to come 
over to America and join his eldest brother, James Buch- 
anan, who was then extensively engaged in commerce in 
the city of Richmond. There was another inducement,, 
for his brother Alexander had preceded him, and was 
then living with his brother James. His brothers and 
himself soon discovered that neitlier his early habits nor 
his turn of mind fitted him for mercantile pursuits. His 
inclination led him continually to desire to become a 
minister of the gospel ; and his l^rother James concur- 



INTRODUCTION OF THE PARSONS. 31 

ring, he returned to Great Britain to study divinity, and 
in a short time Avas duly invested with holy orders in the 
Protestant Episcopal Church. Plis study of the law and 
close application to elocution assisted greatly in preparing 
him for the ministry, and his short career in commercial 
concerns l^rought him into contact with men and business. 
This gave him an insight into ordinary transactions, laid 
open the avenues to men's minds, and displayed the way 
in which self-interest impelled them. He had learned to 
mingle with society, and to know the views and feelings 
of those who compose a people. The minister who shuts 
himself in his study and knows nothing of the outside 
world, may be free from personal contamination, if his 
power of resistance be small, but is not in a position to 
exhibit his strength and power in helping the feeble, or 
aiding them in resisting the assaults and wiles of the 
devil. 

Having obtained holy orders, he returned to Virginia, 
but in consequence of the Kevolutionary war which had 
just commenced, and the uncertain position of the Church 
as established under the regal government, and the de- 
termination of the government to repeal all laws which 
tended in any way to tlie establishment of a national 
church, it was impossible for a stranger to obtain position 
as a minister, particularly in the Episcopal Church. There 
were no congregations willing to pay a minister, and the 
church funds were not in a condition to justify salaries. 
He was, therefore, compelled to devote his time to the 
instruction of youth, as a private tutor in a few families 
whose friendship he had gained. Subsequently, he re- 
turned to Richmond, and olhciated as an assistant to the 
Rev. Mr. Selden, then Rector of the Parish of Henrico, 
and continued to perform this duty until the death of 
that gentleman, when he succeeded him as minister of the 
parish. 



32 THE TWO PARSONS. 

He, like Parson Blair, made religious toleration a part 
of his creed; maintained the same freedom of conscience 
for others that he claimed for himself, and saw in every 
sincere professor of our faith, a Christian ; in every good 
man, a brother. Parson Blair, too, had been a professor 
at Washington Henry Academy, and had removed to 
Kichmond, hoping to obtain a better school, and really 
to ol)lige the many friends who had invited him to come, 
and who not only snl)scribed to his support as a pastor, 
but promised to patronize him by sending their children to 
his school. 

This similarity of pursuits, identity of views as to free- 
dom of conscience, congeniality of disposition, kindness 
of heart. Christian charity, and high mental culture, drew 
these two men together with a power that nothing could 
sever, and held them boimd with a common tie to the 
day of their death, as one and indivisiljle. 

These things, combined with the condition of pnblic 
affairs after the war, the total destruction and worthless- 
ness of paper money, the extreme poverty of the mass 
of tlie people, the destruction of the old churches, the 
abolition of the glebes, the inability to repair the dilapi- 
dated buildino-s, or to erect new and suitable houses of 
worship, threw many of the denominations into camp- 
meetings in the woods, in the neighborhood of springs, 
or in the towns — aye, even in the capital of the State, — 
to resort, by sufferance, to the public buildings to preach 
the word r)f God in its simplicity and purity. And the 
two parsons of whom we have spoken are the men who 
undertook and carried out this interchange of all the 
charities of life, which some have mistaken as evidence 
of a low state of religion in the two churches; but which 
we maintain, ujider similar circumstances, is woi'thy of 
all imitation, as the means of keeping alive true piety 
and real godliness. 



INTRODUCTION OF THE PARSONS. 33 

In addition to this general description of Parson Buch- 
anan, which we preferred to give in our own way, we 
will add what Bishop Meade has written in " The Old 
Churches and Families of Virginia." 

"There was living in Richmond, a poor Scotch clergy- 
man, named John Buchanan, whom he (Jacquelin 
Ambler), invited to make his house his home until he 
should be al)le to support himself. The invitation was 
accepted. The excellent Parson Buchanan lived with 
him till he died, officiated when he was consigned to the 
grave, and preached his funeral sermon. 

"This Jacquelin Aml)ler was Councilor of State 
during the Revolutionary war, at the time Thomas Jef- 
ferson was governor of Virginia. He was afterwards 
appointed Treasurer of State, which office he held until 
his death. He was so remarkable for his scrupulous in- 
tegritv that he was called the "Aristides " of Virginia. 

"His daughters were Eliza, who married first "Wm. 
Brent, of Stafford, and at his death Col. Edward Car- 
rington, of Cumberland; then Mary, who married John 
Marshall; Anne, who married George Fisher, and Lucy, 
Daniel Call." 

This accounts for the intimacy between these families 
and the parson, and gives an insight into the delightful 
-circle in which our friend acted so conspicuous a part, 
and was such an honored guest during his life. 

It is proper before we close this introduction to refer 
to the ancestry of Parson Blair. Some of his family 
•claim that he was descended from a lono- line of illus- 
trous ancestors, and some of them, whether jestingly or 
seriously, trace his pedigree, after the manner of Burkes' 
Peerage, to Sir David Hunter Blair, of Bleniquhain, 
county of Ayr, in Scotland, running back full six cen- 
turies, and appropriate to themselves the ancient motto of 



34 THE TWO PAESONS. 

the older Blairs, ^^Amo ProhosP However tins may be^ 
we neither affirm nor deny it. 

We find in the Presbyterian^ Vol. L. No. 39, a notice of 
the celebration of the one hundred and fiftieth anniversary 
of "Faggs Manor Chm-ch," in which it is stated "that 
Faggs Manor is not only one of onr oldest, bat one of 
our most celebrated churches. Its early pastors were 
men of distinguished ability, who took an active part in 
the events of the day; and throughout all its history, it 
has been a strong and important church. The eloquent 
and learned Samuel Blair was its pastor for eleven years, 
and his scarcely less-gifted l)rother, John Blair for ten 
years. Here, under the instruction of the Blairs, were 
trained some of the most eminent ministers of the early 
Presbyterian church in this country, among whom were 
the Kev. Samuel Davies, President of Princeton College, 
Eev. John Rogers, D. I)., of New York, and others of 
great note and fame. The great revival of 1740, which 
swept over the land from Massachusetts to Georgia, began 
at Faggs Manor, under the ministry of Rev. Samuel 
Blair." 

Dr. Alexander, in his "Log College," says: "The 
Rev. John Blair a younger brother of the Rev. Samuel 
Blair, was an alumnus of the Log College, and as a 
theologian was not inferior to any man in the Presby- 
terian church in his day. He was first settled in Penn- 
sylvania, in the vicinity of Carlisle, at Big Spring, in the 
Cumberland valley. Upon the decease of his brother he 
I'eceived and accepted a call to be his successor at Faggs 
Manor, and that not only as pastor of the church, but 
also as the teacher of the school which his brother had 
instituted in that place. 

New Jersey College, having been founded for the very 
purpose of giving a complete education to the candidates 
for the ministry, the academies which had done so muck 



INTRODUCTION OF THE PARSONS. 35 

for the cliurch, no longer had the same importance as 
when no such institution existed. Accordingly, the Log 
College, which was the mother institution, was abolished. 
Mr. John Blair was elected first Professor of Theology 
in the College of New Jersey. This invitation he ac- 
cepted and removed to Princeton, and until the arrival of 
Dr. Witherspoon performed all the duties of president. 
Afterwards he became the pastor of a Presbyterian con- 
gregation in Wallkill, Orange County, New York, where 
he remained until his death. 

The following inscription appears upon his tomb : 

" Here lies interred, the remains of the Kev. John Blair, 
A. M,, who departed this life December 6, 1771', in the 
fifty-second year of his age. He was a gentleman of a 
masterly genius, a good scholar, an excellent divine, a 
very judicious instructor and solemn preacher. A la- 
borious and successful minister of Christ, an eminent 
Christian. A man of experience and a bright example 
of every social virtue. He was some time Vice-President 
of Nassau Hall, and Professor of Divinitv in the College 
of New Jersey, which places he filled with fidelity and 
reputation. He lived greatly beloved and died uni- 
versally lamented." 

Foote, in his sketches of Virginia, says, "Mr. John 
Blair visited the valley and places east of the Ridge in 
1745, and again in 1746, and during his last visit or- 
ganized the congregations of North Mountain, New Pro- 
vidence, Timber Ridge and Forks of James." 

This justly prominent divine was the father of our 
Parson, the Rev. John Durburrow Blair, of whom we 
shall have much to say in our future chapters. His 
mother was the daughter of an English merchant, by 
the name of Durburrow. 



CHAPTER 11. 

TWO DENOMINATIONS IN ONE. 

IN a letter before us, found in Parson Blair's papers, 
the writer avers, "That the state of religion in our 
metropolis at that period was deplorably low." That 
the Episcopal and Presbyterian denominations, which em- 
braced the higher and more fashionable circle of society, 
were fallen into a state of the greatest apathy. That 
they attended divine service in the hall of the House of 
Delegates at the capitol,.onl3^ in the forenoon on Sunday? 
both of them being without a house of worship ; and here 
he says, "the Rev. Mr. Buchanan, of the Episcopal, and 
the Rev. Mr, Blair, of the Presbyterian church, who 
were linked togetlier in a very warm and intimate friend- 
ship, oiiiciated alternately, according to the forms of their 
respective churches. On one Sunday, the people were 
Presbyterians in external appearance, and the next they 
were Episcopalians in aspect; but still the same. In 
either phase the great body of those who attended the 
service appeared to have no idea of vital religion, and the 
few pious people who still lingered among them (linger- 
ing as it were over the ashes of the altar and digging 
away in the midst of its embers,) were tliemselves nearly 
ready to perish." 

Different people will have different views of things. 
We do not intend in these chapters to enter into any re- 
ligious controversy. Far from it. In cutting our clover 
fields, when we come in the neighborhood of the yellow 
jacket's nest, we drive the mower out of the way. When 



TWO DENOMINATIONS IN ONE. 37' 

we come near a nest of hornets hanging on a bush, we 
would not strike it for the world; even humble bees have 
made ns in our boyhood dodge and duck our heads under 
our coats, and run for our lives, and we have learned to 
avoid religious controversies as the most unsatisfactory of 
all discussions. 

We have a fondness for our good Parsons ; and there 
were many things in their course that we so much approve, 
and think so worthy of imitation:, that we hope to be 
pardoned for raising a finger in their defence, and for 
putting another over our lips to hush the voice of cen- 
sure. How do we know that the good seed they were 
sowing, even in this wayside station, may not have been 
the cause of the great crop that has sprung up in our 
metropolis in later times ? They had no houses of wor- 
ship then. They went into the highways and the by- 
ways to call the guests to the wedding. How do we 
know that those Presbyterians in external appearance, in 
mingling with those Episcopalians in aspect, did not catch 
some kind, soothing words sometimes, and become chari- 
tal)le enough to say, " Forasmucli then as God gave them 
the like gift as He did unto us, who believed on the Lord 
Jesus Christ, what was I, that I could withstand God ? " 
How do we know that "when they heard these things 
they held their peace, and glorified God," saying, " Then 
hath God also to the Gentiles granted repentance unto 
life?" 

Some hornet may say,^ why do you call Episcopalians 
Gentiles? Far from it. We are simply calling atten- 
tion to the words of Peter, who, in his vision, "Saw 
heaven opened and a certain vessel descending unto him, 
as it had been a great sheet knit at the four corners, and 
let down to the earth, wherein were all manner of four- 
footed beasts of the earth, wild beasts, and creeping 
things, and fowls of the air." How do we know that 



38 THE TWO PARSONS. 

those Presbyterians in external appearance, and those 
Episcopalians in aspect, were common or unclean ani- 
mals ? "What God hath cleansed, that call not thou 
common." 

We know that those who attended these simple re- 
ligious exercises were some of the best men and most 
sincerely pious ladies that ever attended any church, and 
know that there was virtue in what they saw and heard; 
and we maintain that they were men of eminence in 
public, patterns in private, wise in council, not to be led 
by the sleeve without thought, examining for themselves, 
understanding how to come to a conclusion, forming their 
belief upon evidence, and then not to be driven to and 
fro by every wind of doctrine, not meddlesome fuss- 
makers, but stable, sober and discreet. They were men 
who were charitable in the common acceptation of the 
term, and charitable in its higher application, permitting 
others to exercise the same liberty of conscience they de- 
manded for themselves. People will differ — they have a 
right to differ — and these worthy people differed as to the 
forms of worship ; some preferred one form, some an- 
other. Hence the two denominations; hence all denomi- 
nations. If anybody supposes that the time will ever 
come when there will be only one denomination of Chris- 
tians, he will have to discover an Utopia that has never 
yet been unveiled. These men were too near the incep- 
tion of our government not to understand what was the 
meaning of religious freedom. They knew^ that God had 
created the mind free. They had heard our fathers too 
often maintain that it was "an impious presumption of 
leo-islators and rulers, civil as well as ecclesiastical, to as- 
sume dominion over the faith of others, setting up their 
own opinions and modes of thinking as thp only true and 
infallible," and as such, endeavouring to impose them upon 
others. They knew that in this way false religions had 



TWO DENOMINATIONS IN ONE. 39 

been estal)lished and maintained over the greatest part of 
the earth, and they had the understanding to perceive 
that there is an advantage in one denomination not per- 
mitting another to make its opinions the rule of judg- 
ment, and to approve or condemn the sentiments of 
others only as they shall square with or differ from their 
own. The very rivalry the different sects feel tends to 
keep the Church pure. They are guards over God's 
w^ord; they are pickets who watch every advance of the 
one army towards the other; they will not tolerate en- 
croachments; they even scrutinize the uniform and dress 
of the common soldier; they examine with a microscope 
the cut of the minister's jib, the baton he uses, the orna- 
ments he places on his head, the robes he wears, the vest- 
ments, the beads, the crosses, the genuflections he makes, 
the number of times he moves his position from one desk 
to another ; and they sometimes think and say of what 
use are these, whether he sprinkles or immerses ; whether 
they go down into or bring the water to the person; 
whether the adult who understands, or the infant who 
has no thought at all, is the proper subject of baptism. 
We stop the enumeration. We will not progress for fear 
of stirring hornets. We say, however, a variety of sects 
prevents interpolations into the Bible, and wilful omissions 
of explanatory texts. This is vitally essential. They 
even know the number of chapters, words, verses, sylla- 
bles and letters. And notwithstanding all this they will 
have different constructions of the same word; they will 
and they ought to exert the reasoning faculties with 
which the Almighty has endowed them, to test each 
other's constructions, to prove and to hold fast to that 
which is true and vital, and discard that which is unim- 
portant or false. And what then ? We doubt not God 
will enable them by the conflict of minds to eliminate 
truth from error, or at least will give them the charity to 



40 THE TWO PARSONS. 

tolerate a difference of opinion ; to do as our good Parsons 
did, commune together with love, and to say as they did, 
" I do not expect brother Blair to follow me unless he 
thinks I am right, nor does he expect me to adopt his 
forms, if I prefer mine. We give up matters of form,, 
and cling to the substance. We both hope to follow 
Jesus, and lead our flocks ' in the paths where green pas- 
tures grow, and where limpid fountains play.' " 

Believing as we do, that the Almighty has intentionally 
made men with minds differing in capacity, viewing ob- 
jects through different media, having different reasoning 
powers, biased by education, association, and the circum- 
stances by which they are surrounded, by the passions 
which control them, and the affections which entwine them- 
selves around their life-strings, we cannot but think that 
He will look with a lenient eye npon those who come to 
different conclusions, even from the same premises. If 
they believe in the same vital truths, the form will be of 
little consequence. 

Hence Parson Blair would often say, and Parson 
Buchanan would approve the sentiment, that " both of us, 
though differing in the form and mode of church govern- 
ment, and in some other non-essentials, know that each is 
aiding with all his might in vindicating God's law, and is 
endeavouring to teach that Jesus Christ is the Son of 
God, through whose mediation salvation can only be ob- 
tained, and consequently we rejoice in preaching together, 
and in pi-oclaiming from the same pulpit the doctrines 
commanded by our Lord. We have Christian charity to 
agree to disagree upon non-essentials, and to love one an- 
other with genuine affection and Christian philanthropy ; 
and we keep our flocks together in perfect harmony and 
concord." 

And we have seen some of that flock in the olden lime 
listening with pleasure to the preaching of the venerable 



TWO DENOMINATIONS IN ONE. 41 

John Courtney, of the Baptist Church, in the old church 
below the Monumental ; and in later days we have heard 
the word expounded by Philip Courtney, of the Metho- 
dist Church ; and he also was a venerable old man. And 
why not hear them ? They were both unexceptionably 
holy men, working with diligence, exhorting with sim- 
plicity, teaching as they understood the word. Yenerable 
in appearance, cheerful in countenance, beloved by their 
flocks, and the words which dropped from their lips 
though not sweetened with honied phrases, nor embel- 
lished with glittering imagery, were nevertheless nervous 
and strong, and seemed to come right from the heart, 
which is half the battle. 

In making known these feelings and actions, we are 
aiming to show that Christian people may live together 
in unity, without wrangling with one another, and that the 
opposite course tends to excite rivalries and jealousies 
among their flocks, and not a little envyings and strifes 
among the shepherds. There are strong passages in both 
the Old and New Testaments to indicate that it is not of 
much importance who are the prophets, if the Spirit of 
the Lord is upon them. 

"And there ran a young man and told Moses, and said,, 
Eldad and Medad do prophesy in the camp. And Joshua 
the son of Nun, the servant of Moses, one of his young 
men, answered and said. My lord Moses, forbid them. 
And Moses said unto him, Enviest thou for my sake ? 
Would God that all the Lord's people were prophets, and 
that the Lord would put His Spirit upon them." Moses 
saw at a glance what was at the foundation of the request^ 
Forbid them to prophesy. 

Do you envy them for fear they should become greater 

prophets than I ? That the people should say. Behold 

Eldad and Medad are vieing with Moses, and are greater 

prophets than he ? Do you envy brother Blair for the 

3 



42 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Episcopalians' sake ? Do you envy brother Buchanan 
for the sake of the Presbyterians ? Would God that all 
the Lord's people were prophets, and that the Lord would 
put His Spirit equally upon Presbyterians and Episco- 
palians. 

Why should we follow the example of the Corinthians, 
wlio were censured by the apostle when they proclaimed, 
" I am of Paul, and I of ApoUos." " Who then is Paul, 
and who is Apollos, but ministers by whom ye believed, 
even as the Lord gave to every man. 1 have planted and 
Apollos watered, but God gave the increase. So, then, 
neither is he that planteth anything, neither he that 
watereth, but God that givetli the increase." " For we 
are labourers too;ether with God." " For other founda- 
tion can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus 
Christ." 

If ministers of the gospel who are wrangling one with 
the other on unimportant forms and doctrines, and are 
thereby exciting jealousies and rivalries among the peo- 
ple, would inculcate more of this Christian spirit, they 
would be like recruiting officers for the same army, each 
helping the other, and picking up more recruits in every 
town and village. 

These are the feelings which ought to be reprobated 
in high party times. A thorough partisan can see no 
good in any man who belongs to the opposite party. His 
whole aim and object is to put his opponent down. His 
mind is not open to conviction; he sees onlj^ one side, 
and stops his ears against the other. And so it is with 
the thorough sectarian. It is of no consequence what 
good the other denominations are doing ; how elevated 
their position ; how exemplary their conduct. They ex- 
tend their bitterness even against the places in which it is 
proposed to worship. Jesus Christ went into the temple 
and preached there. He could preach on the mount; 



TWO DENOMINATIONS IN ONE, 43 

could make men sit down on the grass, and teach and feed 
them there, and could proclaim to His hearers that their 
bodies were the temples : but these good people stickle 
for particular temples and particular men, and are not 
satisfied unless the holy word is dispensed in a consecrated 
place after their fashion. So did not the Saviour. 
" John answered him, saying. Master, we saw one casting 
out devils in Thy name, and he followeth not as; and we 
forbade him, because he followeth not us. But Jesus 
said, Forbid him not ; for there is no man which shall do 
a miracle in My name, that can lightly speak evil of Me." 

The gist of the objection made by the apostle was, that 
though the man was casting out devils in the Saviour's 
name, yet "A(3 followeth not us f tliey evidently believ- 
ing that unless he received authority from them, or from 
God directly, he had no right to preach or perform mira- 
cles ; but there was no mistake in the reply, " Forbid 
him not." This is the doctrine our good Parsons main- 
tained. If he is casting out devils, the Holy Ghost is 
with him, and those with whom tlie Holy Ghost takes up 
His abode, are good enough companions for us. 

Kow, we have entered this caveat to prevent misunder- 
standing. Our Parsons were not opposed to different de- 
nominations, but they were constrained by convictions of 
duty to act as they did, and they performed their part 
with cheerfulness. Therefore they kept up on each al- 
ternate Sabbath their distinctive forms and ceremonies. 
And so long as the mind remains free, one may say " that 
the sun do move," and another " that the earth do move," 
a,nd the poet may sing : 

" While all the stars that round them burn. 
And all the planets in their turn. 
Proclaim the tidings as they roll. 
And spread the truth from pole to pole." 



4:4 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" In reason's ear they all rejoice, 
And utter forth a glorious voice, 
Forever singing as they shine, 
The hand that made us is divine." 

To show the commendable spirit existing in former 
times, we state that in 1790 the vestry of Henrico Parish 
passed a resolution "permitting the church wardens to 
allow ministers of other denominations to preach in our 
country churches in the day-time, when not occupied by 
Dr. Buchanan, provided they do not leave them open or 
injure them." 

At a later period " Mr. Blair is allowed to preach every 
other Sunday in St. John's Church," the Episcopal church 
in the city of Richmond. 

We remember in our youth, before the grand organs 
had been introduced into our city which now give such 
effect and assistance to the melody of the chants and 
hymns, the pleasure we experienced in listening to the 
choir that then occupied the old gallery in the Hall of 
the House of Delegates. It will scarcely be believed 
now, that there was no door tlien in the centre of the 
hall in the rear of Washington's statue. The entrance 
was under the right-hand gallery on the eastern side, and 
there was no other gallery in the room. There was a 
gallery and a lobby under that gallery, which were sepa- 
rated from the hall, and the main entrance was under the 
gallery from the centre of the lobby. The speaker's 
chair was on the side where the present entrance is. We 
know of what we affirm, for the alteration was made un- 
der our supervision. But to return, few will believe now 
that there was such a thing as a choir in those days. 
The general impression has been, that the congregation 
sang as a unit. Sometimes they did, but the clioir was 
the rule — congregational singing the exception. 



TWO DENOMINATIONS IN ONE. 45 

We have to turn over the leaves of our brain to recall 
some of the performers and then- instruments; but our 
memory is not at fault when we say, Fitzwilson's huge base 
viol, in front of which he could scarcely bring his arms 
to wield his immense bow, on account of the rotundity of 
his person, was not only conspicuous, but the music of 
that viol used to reverberate and sliake, by the vibration 
of the air, the very marrow in our juvenile bones. "We 
hope that our readers will not imagine that we intend to 
cast ridicule on the music or the man, for we say it with- 
out fear of contradiction, that he was a most estimable, 
upright citizen, respected by everybody, and it really af- 
fords us pleasure to see him, in the mind's e^'^e, on a hot 
Sunday in August standing at the door, before he entered 
the vestibule, with his white pocket handkerchief wiping 
the perspiration from his extremely bald pate, and then 
holding it to the wind to dry before returning it to his 
pocket. But besides this, there were the mellow, deep- 
toned bass voices of old Blagrove and Southgate, men of 
character and note, whose intonations gave the viol's base 
a softening tone ; and then Nekervis' tenor and Lynch's 
soul-inspiring Hute, with the sweet and harmonious voices 
of some of Richmond's favourite female vocalists, with 
their dulcet, bird-like notes, would calm and soothe the 
spirit. These reminiscences recall some of the tunes, and 
the saddened heart reflects on the mournful strains that 
poured forth on funeral occasions, when they sang with 
pathos : 

" Vital spark of heavenly flame. 
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame." 

We have riot heard any one read that stanza as Parson 
Buchanan did from that day to this ; nor that other live- 
lier and more cheerful one, that brought " an instant sun- 



46 THE TWO PARSONS, 

sMne to the heart," when he gave out, and they would 
peal forth in the tune that was sung in that day : 

" We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs, 
High as the heavens our voices raise. 

And earth, with her ten thousand tongues. 
Shall fill tliy courts with sounding praise ; 

Shall till, shall till thy courts with sounding praise." 

In corroboration of what we have said, we bring up 
Parson Blair himself as a witness, not only to show the 
warm and intimate friendship, but the fact that whenever 
one of these good brothers would leave the city the other 
would roam about like a troubled spirit. We have an 
old letter from Parson Blair to Parson Buchanan, di- 
rected to him at Staunton, imploring him to return to 
the city. We give it to show the playfulness of their 
intercourse, and to recur to the music of the choir which de- 
lighted the two congregations with its melody : 

" To Mr. Buchanan, 
" Dear Sir : 

" Not one of all your num'rous friends. 
For public or for selfish ends, 
You may with confidence rely. 
Wishes to see you more than I. 
Embargoed is the city's wealth. 
But vet it has been blessed with health : 
So I've been seldom call'd to trace 
The church-yard with a solemn pace. 
But health itself cannot defend 
From anxiousness to see a friend. 
When down to Mayo's bridge I go, 
I find your house in statu quo ; 
But yet it seems quite ' out o' that,' 



TWO DENOMINATIONS IN ONE. 47 

For want of your enliv'ning chat. 

The chnrch-l)ells to no purpose ring, 

And Southgate's self forgets to sing. 

From the 'hill country' hasten down, 

And let us see you soon in town ; 

For why, I pray, should Mrs. Call 

Detain our Parson from us all? 

Yirgil in verses smooth and ginglish, 

(That is, if Virgil could write English,) 

Would here exclaim, Hist! Silence! Hark! 

He's coming — I hear Hylax bark. 

But what men wish their fancies feign, 

And poets' dreams are often vain. 

With one spell more I will assail, 

And try what music can avail. 

'Tis strange, indeed, if he withstand 

The pow'r of Richmond's chosen band. 

To wean him from Stauntonian charms ; 

I'd rouse him with 'The Din of Arms,' 

But that he'll wait returning 'peace,' 

To lull him in the lap of ease. 

And in her pleasures bind him fast, 

Soon ' as the din of arms was past.' 

Let 'vital sparks' that melt to tears. 

And ' Denmark,' with his ' rolling years,' 

Which captivate both cit and clown. 

Try which shall first entice him down. 

Now let Fitzwilson take the viol. 

And sound a prelude to the trial ; 

Let Southgate tune melodious throat, 

And Blagrove join his sweetest note; 

Li counter-tenor let Nekervis 

Do for a friend the signal service 

To waft a note may reach the ear 

Of Daphnis, and enchant him here ; 



48 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Make him forthwith his steps retrace, 

And take his own part in the bass, 

Which in the scale, tho' low deprest, 

Is the support of all the rest. 

Let all their several parts combine. 

And in one full, grand chorus join; 

While some skill'd minstrel takes the lute. 

And Lynch his soul-inspiring flute. 

And their whole skill and power display 

In concert with the vocal lay. 

Hark, hark, what sounds salute the ear ! 

But Daphnis does not yet appear. 

Come, then, with all the graces stor'd, 

That song and beauty can afford. 

Sweet Nymphs, come join your matchless strains, 

And make the blood thrill in his veins. 

In ' Life's gay morn ' employ the tongue, 

And make him think he still is young. 

He'll haste the fair ones to behold. 

And ' sing of love ere he grows old.' 

Cease, cease, sweet Nymphs, see, who comes there ? 

Daphnis could ne'er resist the fair. 

Is it illusion ? No, 'tis he ; 

Nay, listening angels bend to see 

What songsters on these humble plains 

Thus rival their celestial strains." 

Parson Buchanan, as we have seen, was an elderly gen- 
tleman ; but still he was a bachelor, and though he had 
no intention of wooing maid or widow, yet nothing de- 
lighted him more than to be bantered about his courtships 
and his gay attentions to the fair. And so Parson Blair 
in his letter calls upon the Nymphs to sing to him of 
*' life's gay morn," that he may haste to see the fair ones, 
and " sing of love ere he grows old." We have heard 



TWO DENOMINATIONS IN ONE. 49 

him iu his merry moments talking of jonng widows, and 
of setting their caps ; and he would show that he knew 
something of their ways, when he would say, I have seen 
them when they were just discarding their sombre weeds, 
and shyly yet delicately fixing in their ringlets some lit- 
tle white bud, speaking as plainly as words could tell, "I 
am peeping out." On such occasions he would say, " I 
am almost tempted to say, ' and so am I ;' but. Brother 
Blair, when we old fellows see the trap, there is no use 
in touching the triggers." 



CHAPTER III. 

WHY THEY PREACHED TOGETHER, AND HOW THEY DIS- 
POSED OF THEIR FEES. 

AFTER the instances we liave given of the kind 
nature and good hearts of our two Parsons, it is 
unnecessary to dwell upon these charactertistics ; but we 
will be derelict if we omit to declare that no envyings and 
tauntings of each other existed among their flock. They 
did not draw invidious distinctions as to the talents of 
their pastors, and there were no strifes as to the relative 
sizes of the flocks. Tliey were perfectly satisfied that 
the congregation did not possess wealth enough to justify 
tlie erection of two houses of worship. 

They did not choose to contract for two churches and 
pay for neither, nor to permit the honest mechanic and 
laborer to provide materials, and to devote time and 
money to this object without compensation. 

We have no objection to urge against handsome 
churches in outward appearance, or to ornaments which 
are simple, chaste and elegant in the interior of places of 
worship. We remember the examples of David and 
Solomon, and the glorious temple built by them, in faith- 
full}' executing the pattern furnished by divine wisdom. 
We delight in viewing monuments of art, erected to 
beautify cities, and to cultivate a taste for the flne arts. 
And there is nothing so pleasant as to see in the country, 
under fine shade trees, a beautiful building consecrated 
to God's worship, kept neatly painted, always in thorough 
repair, reflecting the utmost ci'edit on a county and the 



HOW THEY DISPOSED OF THEIR FEES. 51 

people who inhabit it. It is the highest mai'k of true 
civihzation. 

In all such cases everything depends upon the ability 
to erect or repair without resorting to doubtful expedients 
to obtain the money. Extravagance depends upon the 
financial ability, and the excess to which indulgencies are 
carried and the evil example it may set. 

In the case of our Parsons, they were restrained by in- 
ability, and their flock saw the necessity of the situation. 
But we show the spirit l)y which these worthy people 
were actuated when we say, that if the services of one 
pastor could not be obtained, either at a funeral or a 
wedding, a christening or the consolation to be rendered 
around a sick or a dying bed, the other was appealed to 
with perfect confidence, and rendered those services with 
alacrity and pleasure. 

On several occasions it had happened that marriage 
ceremonies had been performed and marriage fees re- 
ceived l)y the minister of one denomination, when the 
parties belonged to the other; and in perfect concord 
they had, by tacit understanding, returned the fee to the 
parson to whom it would liave been tendered if circum- 
stances had not prevented. Many were the kind notes 
which passed between them on these occasions ; and their 
eyes twinkled with pleasure and their hearts expanded 
with joy, when each was able to present to the other a 
remembrancer worthy of his acceptance. They invari- 
ably had some joke to crack, which was received with 
greater zest if the answer returned transferred the laugh 
from the one side to the other. 

But after the death of James Buchanan, by which oc- 
currence his brother received a large accession of wealth, 
enough at any rate to make him perfectly comfortable 
for life, he was in the habit of transferring a large portion 
of his fees to Parson Blair, and chuckled exceedingly if 



52 THE TWO PAESONS. 

he could find an opportunity, as he said, to bring him in 
debt, and then to dun him for the amount due. 

Mr. Mordecai, in his book of "Richmond in By -gone- 
days," gives an instance of this, which we reproduce, not 
exactly as he states it, but as it really occurred. 

Parson Blair was in the habit of officiating occasionally 
as pastor at the Old Pole Green Church, in the county of 
Hanover, and had been requested to marry a couple on a 
given day at the church; but when the day arrived, find- 
ing himself too unwell to attend, he had asked Parson 
Buchanan to take his place. Accordingly, after per- 
forming the ceremony. Parson Buchanan, in his usual 
playfulness dispatches the following note: 

"To THE Rev. John D. Blair: 

'■'■ Dear Brother^ — As an act of justice to, myself, the 
propriety of which you will no doubt acknowledge, I en- 
close you an account, to which 3^our attention is desired. 

The Rev. J. D. Blair, in account with J. Buchanan, Dr. : 

To amount paid Jack Carter, for hire of car- 
riage two days, at $5 per day, . . $10 00 
To horse feed and other expenses to and fro, 3 00 

$13 00 
By wedding fee received, ... 5 00 

Balance due John Buchanan, . . . $8 00 

Please remit balance, and oblige your friend and 
brother, * J. B." 

To which the following answer was returned : 
"To his Reverence John Buchanan: 

" Dear Brother^ — I have scanned your account closely, 
and sympathize with the deficit in your pocket. I might 
return the balance, but for your own good. We are 



HOW THEY DISPOSED OF THEIR FEES. 53- 

told ' It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a 
needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of 
God.' These little contr'c temjys are intended to reduce 
the plethora, which might render you as large as a camel, 
and to make the passage through the needle's eye less 
difficult. If such occurrences should happen frequently, 
you will be able, other important considerations being 
attended to, to enter the kingdom easily. That you will 
obtain a mansion above, I doubt not. 

" Truly your friend and brother, J. D. B." 

This note was posted off by old Faris, the factotum 
about his house, with instructions to deliver it to Parson 
Buchanan in person. In the meantime he indulged him- 
self in his soliloquy — " "Well, well, well, what a fellow I 
am !" 

In a short time Faris returned with the following note : 

"To the Rev. John D. Blair: 

" Ye are sae smart and unco cunning, I maun forgie ye 
that large debt I wrote for the ither day. 

"Yery affectionately and truly your brother, 

John Buchanan." 

Parson Blair, as usual, must have the last blow; he 
could not be satisfied with " tit for tat," so he sends this 
clincher : 

" Ad Reveeendissime Joannem Buchanan: 

'■'■Dear Brother, — A game-keeper once caught a Scotch- 
man creeping through the hedge to poach on the Laird's 
\vtirren. 'Whither are ye gangin', Sawney?' he 
cried out excitedly. 'Back again,' returned Sawney, 
quickly withdrawing his body. ' And are ye takin' the 
back track, man ? say I. Weel, weel, ye may gang your 
ain gait. I winna disturb ye.' 

"Affectionately your friend and brother, J. D. B." 



54 THE TWO PARSONS. 

On another occasion we have, from one of the members 
of the family in which it occurred, the following incident : 

In christening an infant daughter of Dr. Andrew 
Leiper, then a distinguished physician in our city, Parson 
Buchanan requested to be allowed to be one of the god- 
fathers for the babe, and not only officiated in baptizing 
the child and giving it the name of Frances, but became 
responsible for it in after life; and she was always to 
him his charming little Fanny. It so happened that as 
the child grew, a friendship sprang up between the good 
man and the blooming maid, and they never met without 
pleasantries passing between them, which were exceed- 
ingly agreeable. And still later, when he could not help 
hearing, and seeing, too, — for he had an eye for detect- 
ing the approaches of Cupid among his flock — that she 
was engaged to be married to Mr. Richard Crouch, 
another friend, he took the greatest delight in rousing 
the blushes that mantled her cheek, l:>y delicately alluding 
to it and playfully punning on the croitcKing lion that 
was l)esetting her path. 

The time came for the marriage, and the good Parson, 
of course, was the minister ; and he alone of all ministers 
the only proper man to unite the two in wedlock. The 
groom handed the Parson three gold pieces (eagles), in 
anticipation of the ceremony. Pope has it, that " Arts 
still followed where Rome's eagles flew." And we know 
that gold pieces of this denomination of the United States 
contribute much to make more than eagles fly. The 
Parson chuckled to himself when the gold touched his 
palm, and a happy idea struck him. And so in the 
morning, after the wedding, he took up his hat and cane 
r.,..d wended his way, albeit uninvited, to breakfast with 
the bride. Of course she met him with smiles and win- 
ning kisses ; but he said he must give her a cordial shake 
of the hand, too, for that was the way fast friends sealed 



HOW THEY DISPOSED OF THEIR FEES. 55 

their friendship in old Virginia. And then, when he put 
his hand in hers, he left in it a little package, tied with a 
white ribbon, containing the gold pieces he had received 
as his fee. Untying the ribbon, she read : " From an old 
godfather to his sweet little Fanny." And when she 
threw her arms aromid his neck and began her thanks, 
he put his finger on his lip, and said, this is my secret, 
and was as merry as a cricket. 

These were the little by-plaj^s between the sober and 
the gay — between the solemnity befitting the pulpit, the 
tears surrounding the dying, the pathos at the grave, and 
the merriment of peaceful and quiet retirement in private 
— which gave a charm to the intercourse of our estimable 
friends. They were the unstringing of the harp after its 
softest tones have been elicited, only to be drawn up the 
higher, to loftier strains on suitable occasions. 

We know of another incident worthy to be recorded. 
Parson Blair was notified by Mr. Meredith, a friend in 
Hanover County, that he was going to be married, and 
would call with his intended at five o'clock in the after- 
noon of the next day, and hoped he would marry them at 

his own house; which, of course, could not be declined. 

• 

Accordingly, after the ceremony was performed, the 
groom went to his buggy at the door and brought in as 
fine and fat a turkey as could well be raised, and laugh- 
ingly said, " Parson, I must say to you as the Apostle 
Peter said to the lame man in the temple, ' Silver and 
gold have I none, but such as I have give I unto thee.' " 
And this was his fee, and of course it could not be 
refused. 

After the groom and bride had retired, the good man 
sat down at his desk and wrote the following note : 

^'Ad Reverendissime Joannem Buchanan: 

" Dear Brother : — I received to-day as a marriage fee 



56 THE TWO PARSONS. 

an elegant tnrkey. You are so obstinate that you will 
not take unto yourself a rib. I know you cannot eat a 
whole turkey by yourself — come and eat it with me, and 
I will help you to a ' side hone^ or a ' hug me closed and 
this perhaps will remind you of your duty. 

"Affectionately, J. D. B." 

The Parson contented himself with saying, pleasantly : 
" He feels badly about tliat fee he owes me, and is trying, 
to pay the debt." 



CHAPTER lY. 

THE WINSTON FAMILY. 

WE have taken pleasure in describing our two Par- 
sons, and they linger in our memory with a rever- 
ential feeling. The recollection of the charming inter- 
course kept up between them and our cherished parents 
brings back many of the ]ojs> of our boyhood. As years 
roll on, and the friends of our youth are passing away, 
Ave partially fill up the gap. by musing over the incidents 
in the lives of these good men and their delightful com- 
panions. In order to know them, it is necessary to know 
those with whom they were intimate, both by family 
connection and by social intercourse. As only one of 
our Parsons was married, we desire to have a knowledge 
of the wife who was the object of his affection, whose 
happiness contributed to his enjoyment, and whose dis- 
tress cast gloom and sorrow upon his brow. Then we 
wish to know her family ties, and become acquainted 
with her friends and relatives. In fact, we want to be 
introduced to Mrs. Blair. Those who did not know her 
or them may well envy those who did ; and thinking we 
may contribute to their pleasure by giving them an ink- 
ling of these charming characters, we shall endeavour to 
climb such limbs of the genealogical tree as we may per- 
chance be able to reach. 

Time will soon cut down all these old trees, and even 

the stumps will be pulled up, for the destruction of the 

system of primogeniture in this country must destroy 

every vestige of the aristocracy of the olden time, and 

4 



58 THE TWO PARSONS. 

will leave little or no inducement to the son to enquire 
of his father who his grandfather was. Shoddy will 
certainly not care to show who Shoddy was, nor how he 
acquired his money. Indeed, we knew a gentleman, not 
a representative of Shoddy either, who was profoundly 
disgusted when asked to give his assistance in the con- 
struction of his own genealogy, declaring he took more 
interest in the progenitors of his dog, Carlo, than in all 
the old Winstons in creation. As an apology for this 
gentleman, we will say that he was suffering at the time 
with a twinge of the gout. 

Somebody, however, may have the curiosity to ask who 
was Mrs. Blair; and as she was unlike mother Eve in 
having had a mother, they may desire to know who that 
mother was. The good Parson used to call his wife 
"Mary," and in his younger days, no doul)t, went so far 
as to say "Mary, dear," or "Mary, honey." 

We have seen it stated in Parson Blair's memorandum 
book that on a particular day he sent to Mrs. Mary Winston, 
his wife's mother, the sum of twenty dollars. By these 
two links we make out that the wife and her mother 
were both named Mary Winston. 

We have had the curiosity to ask for our own satisfac- 
tion, Who was old Mrs. Mary Winston? And while 
musing among the tomb-stones in St. John's old church 
yard, on Church Hill, in this city, we discovered one 
tablet, sacred to the memory of Geddes Winston and 
Mrs. Mary Winston, his wife; the lirst of whom died in 
the month of June, 1784, and the last in December, 1811. 
We thus ascertain the father of Mrs. Blair. Having ob- 
tained this foot-hold on the genealogical tree, we shall 
squirrel-fashion play among the branches. 

It is proper that our readers should know this family 
circle — this group of bright minds and warm hearts that 
gave fascination to the society in which they moved. We 



THE WINSTON FAMILY, 59 

can give them a shadowy outHiie. It may help some of 
our friends to find out their cousins, uncles and aunts, 
nephews and nieces, and even their grandmothers and 
grandfathers. 

We have ascertained that this Mr. Geddes Winston 
was the son of Wm. Essex Winston, who was the son of 
old Isaac Winston, who descended from the ancient and 
honorable family of that name in England. We men- 
tion this fact because it will explain why Mrs. Blair, in 
a subsequent chapter, imdertakes to show how she was de- 
scended from the Earl of Essex.* 

Mr. Thomas Rutherfoord, with whom we shall l)ecome 
gradually acquainted as we progress, says in a communi- 
cation before us: "When I first knew Mr. Geddes Wins- 
ton, that gentleman was pretty far advanced in years. 
He was remarkable for his quiet, but social, disposition, 
with rather indolent habits. He possessed at one time 
considerable property, but had become involved in diffi- 
culties by securityships. He had a facility for placing 
his name on the back of small slips of paper, to accom- 
modate friends, who assured him he should never hear 
from them again; but which, without much ceremony, 
usually paid him domiciliary visits in about sixty or 
ninety days, and thereafter kept continually pulling at 
his purse strings, as if they were bell wires. At times 
he was troubled with a curious impediment in his speech, 
which prevented him from speaking audibly the mono- 
syllable ' No ;' but this impediment was not perceptible 
in usual conversation. It would be well for some peo- 
ple in reading these reminiscences to stick a pin in that 
word 'No,' and give a moment's reflection to its import. 

*The most remote progeuitor of whom we have knowledge was 
Isaac Winston, who was born in Yorkshire, England, in 1620. Three 
of his sons emigrated to America, and settled near Richmond, in 
1704. These were William, Isaac and James. Isaac, the second of 
these brothers, was Mrs, Blair's immediate progenitor. 

/ 



60 THE TWO PARSONS. 

"Notwithstanding the loss of property brought about 
by this failing, it did not seem to give him much anxiety, 
nor break in upon his rest; for when it became neces- 
sary, and after the bell had been sufficiently pulled, and 
had become distinctly audible, his innate honesty induced 
him to provide the means to cause these unwelcome visi- 
tors to depart in peace at whatever sacrifice, and thus his 
property was in a gradual process of diminution." 

Mr. Winston and his wife then lived in the old family 
mansion in the county of Hanover, in which their lovely 
daughters and lively sons were born. This old mansion 
was noted for the magnificent oaks around it, for the old 
well on the lawn, with its ever cool and refreshing water, 
overshadowed as it was by two magnificent weeping-wil- 
lows, which kept off the rays of the sun and caused the old 
bucket, from the constant dampness which surrounded it, 
to become in truth, "The moss-covered bucket that hung 
in the well." Through the avenues and approaches to the 
house, and all about it, there were hundreds of wild 
laurel trees, with their ever-green, glossy leaves and pure 
white flowers, constantly emitting delicious fragrance, and 
making the atmosphere which pervaded the cheerful 
rooms redolent with delicate perfume. From these, the 
old people had given to the homestead the appropriate 
name of "Laurel Grove." While the young ones were 
basking in the sunshine of budding affections, tlie old 
gentleman managed to keep up the place, and with the' 
help of a little paint, and a few strips of weather-board- 
ins" here and there, to s-ive the old house an air of cheer- 
fulness and comfort that invited the young and gay to 
sociability and enjoyment. But when the older daughters 
were married, and Mr. Winston's difficulties increased, 
and the old house began to decay, at the urgent solicita- 
tion of Mr. Kutherfoord, who had married one of his 
daughters, he and his wife and two younger daughters,. 



THE WINSTON FAMILY. 61 

removed to Ricliraond and made Mr. Rutlierfoord's house 
their home. From that time forth, annoyances to the 
old gentleman from money matters ceased to exist. 

In Mr. Rutlierfoord's memoranda, he also says that 
Mrs. Winston was a woman of excellent sense and good 
manners, and possessed the remains of great beauty. 
Our business is at present with her, because she is the 
mother of Mrs. Blair, the Parson's wife, and of a goodly 
brood of fascinating offspring. We are delighted that in 
his journey through life the good Parson should liave 
been blessed with a wife so congenial, whose mother, re- 
lations and friends were so devoted and kind, in whose 
society his weary hours were brightened, his relations 
rendered joyous, and his ministerial career made honor- 
able and useful. 

It was our pleasure, in the long, long past, to see old 
Mrs. Winston ; and though only eight years old when she 
died, with the aid of the oft repeated descriptions received 
from her daughters, we imagine that we can accurately 
recall her appearance. We respected and venerated the 
very cap that encircled her head, and through which her 
sweet face shed its radiance around. There is pleasure 
in the reflection that we were once dandled upon her 
knee. She lived to see her great-grandchildren playing 
at her feet, and practised with them what we are play- 
fully repeating with our own grandchildren, tossing and 
catching them, to their infinite deliglit. When such per- 
sons are gathered to their fathers, we experience a mel- 
ancholy satisfaction, even in looking at the old portrait 
hanging on the wall, whicli is but their counterpart. 
Her's is still extant, and the last time we saw it, after 
tracing the form and features, and dwelling upon the 
lineaments, we seemed to be looking at one of her 
daughters, so striking was the resemblance. The fashion 
of the dress has changed. She is seated as in quiet re- 



62 THE TWO PARSONS. 

pose, listening to the merry conversation of her descen- 
dants. She is attired in a rich black silk of the olden 
times. It is an old lady's dress, perfectly plain and sim- 
ple, without flounces or fnrbelows ; but it enfolds her per- 
son with perfect ease, and there is not a line to give the 
appearance of stiffness or pride. The sleeves are not 
unlike those of the present day ; they cover the arms, but 
do not constrain the hands, which gracefully lie enfolded 
in her lap. There is on her neck a thread cambric hand- 
kerchief, doubled and crossed over her bust, over which 
is also a half square of spotted black lace, finished at the 
edge with a rich border. Her head is decorated with a 
plain book-muslin cap, or rather the head decorates the 
cap; but however this may be, the cap is drawn closely 
around her face, with a narrow^ frill in front, a plain 
black gauze ribbon behind the frill, passing around the 
head, and tying in a single bow under the chin. Though 
age has thrown touches of shade in her cheeks, making 
wrinkles where the roses and lilies used to Ijloom, yet 
the features indicate still the beauty that lurked beneath 
in laughing youth. The black eyes, yet a family feature, 
keep their lustre in the portrait, the expanded brow shows 
indications of well developed intellect, and the toiit en- 
semhle exhibits a lady of refinement, grace and modesty. 
Such were the father and mother of our estimal)le Par- 
son's wife. 

"We must retrace our steps to gain some information of 
those whom we shall sometimes meet in these pages. It 
has descended to us as part of our family history that old 
Samuel Jordan, the father of Mrs. Winston, was the first 
of the name in Virginia. He is mentioned in the Col- 
onial Kecord, page 9, as bemg one of the delegates from 
Charles City at the first election of delegates to the first 
Legislature that assembled in Virginia, in 1619. And it 
is stated in Smith's History, page 150, that "Siselye Jor- 



THE WINSTON FAMILY. 63 

dan, Mary and Margery Jordan, lived at Jordan'' s Jorney, 
the same as Jordan's Point, a short distance below City 
Point, and that after the massacre by the Indians on 22nd 
March, 1622, many of the inhabitants fortified them- 
selves against other attacks, and Master Samuel Jordan 
gathered a few about him at Bigger's Bush (the title of 
one of Fletcher's comedies), where he fortified." From 
this oldest of the Jordan's descended Col. Samuel Jordan, 
who lived in Buckingham county, opposite the Seven 
Islands in James Piver. He had seven daughters, all of 
whom married men well-known and of high position in 
society, to-wit: Mrs. Wm. Cabell, of Union Hill, in 
^Nelson; Mrs. John Cabell, of Buckingham; Mrs. .Hugh 
Rose, of Amherst; Mrs. Irvine, of Buckingham; Mrs. 
Wyatt, of Lynchburg; Mrs. Hunter, of New York, and 
Mrs. Winston, of Hanover. They had an only brother. Col. 
John Jordan, who was wounded in the war of 1812, and 
was afterwards serjeant-at-arms to the House of Delegates. 
These sisters were the belles of their day, requiring 
neitlier ringing nor chiming to make them known. Their 
personal attractions drew the beaux from all parts of the 
State, as electricity gathers the summer clouds. The 
home of their father became the centre from which the 
flashes of lieauty darted, in whose halls and corridors the 
smiles of loveliness played, in which mirth and gayety 
revelled. They were not puffed in paragraphs of the 
press, as the nobodies of the present day not unfrequently 
are, as being millionaires. They were not thought of as 
the possessors 'of wealth ; they were not visited for the 
expectation of dowry. Each person raised his voice in 
praise of their beauty, and all were enchanted with their 
manners, their intelligence, grace, dignity and worth. 
This is high praise, but it is such as has been handed 
down from father to son, from mother to daughter from 
that day to this. 



64 THE TWO PARSONS. 

It was a common thing to hear the gentlemen say, 
"Where are you going?" "To old Sam Jordan's." It 
was a very uncommon thing to hear, what are you going 
for ? If you were going there, you would find more than 
pictures to please the eye, better than flowers to regale 
the sense : more than meats and drinks to o;ratify , the 
palate; better than birds to display gay plumage and fill 
the groves wath warblings. Tliere were living, animated 
forms, moving with queenly step, simply and neatly at- 
tired, from whose velvet lips mellow words escaped with 
unusual fascination. There were eyes that sparkled, 
liquid eyes that softened, eyes that shot heart-quakes. 
There were ringlets whose glossy folds shaded and 
softened the damask cheek, and when the breezes played 
among them, let in the sun-light to show the warmth and 
glow springing from the fresh life of their untroubled 
hearts. There were smiles that played around and among 
the dimples, and lingered over the face, to dispel the 
gloom that might trouble another's brow. There was 
merry laughter and sparkling wit, and hope and fear and 
love in that ancestral home. Cupid had a gay time of it, 
in and about that old mansion. 

We cannot say that among the many spirits these 
bright, peculiar stars attracted, there were not disappoint- 
ments which saddened riven hearts and cast a gloom over 
despairing souls. This is always the fate of those who 
enlist under Cupid's banner. How can it be otherwise, 
when Cupid is blind, and shoots his arrows sometimes at 
a venture ; they strike right and left, but not unfrequently 
miss their aim. There is consolation in the thought that 
love cannot be controlled. We cannot love others merely 
because they love us. There is a something, an inde- 
finable feeling, that keeps some hearts asunder — a repul- 
sion that cannot be conquered; while on the other liand, 
there are throljs and pulsations that burst bars and bolts, 



THE WINSTON FAMILY. 65 

and defy the powers of earth and air, and iri'esistibly exe- 
cute the inevitable decree that these twain shall be one. 

We have given this leaf of family history to show what 
a bevy of aunts and uncles Mrs. Blair possessed, and in 
what a wide circle of relatives she moved. When we 
shall hear her hereafter talking of Aunt Wyatt, and Aunt 
Irvine, and Aunt Rose, and quoting the sayings and 
doings of Uncle Hunter, Uncle Will, and Uncle John 
Cabell, we shall have some idea of whom she is talking. 
When she begins to descant upon high descent and blood, 
and makes out her pedigree, as she is sure to do when 
her sisters and brother Jordan disparage any of them, we 
shall not be surprised to hear the good Parson exclaim- 
ing, after his humorous fashion, "Well, well, well, 
dear me!'' 

But it is time to return to tlic more immediate family 
group of Winstons. If we cast our eyes into the dim 
distance of the past, we can see old Isaac Winston, with 
his exceedingly bald head. Baldness was a trait, a never- 
failing personal characteristic by which the males of this 
family have ever been distinguished. It is a remarkable 
fact, that not only will hair not grow on the top of their 
heads, but even wigs in a very short time have a dingy, 
half-burnt look, and becjome very thin in spite of the free 
use of cosmetics. This old Isaac had two sons, Wm. Essex 
and Isaac the second. Wm. Essex was the father of 
Geddes; and Isaac was, therefore, the uncle of Geddes. 

It so happened that Isaac, with a few sprinkles of grey 
liair on his head, was reclining on the bench in the old 
porch at Laurel Grove on a very hot day in midsummer, 
while his nephew, Geddes, was sitting on an opposite 
bench, with as round a head as ever was seen, and as slick 
as ice. Geddes has his back to the wall, his knees drawn 
up to the height of his chin, and his hands with lingers 
interlaced over the knees. In these comfortable positions 



66 THE TWO PARSONS. 

both of these gentlemen appear, in then- shirtsleeves, and 
have just been settling the affairs of the nation. After 
some time, Geddes said, "Uncle Isaac, I wish yon wonld 
trace out for me the relationship between Patrick Henry 
and my father." 

"Let me see," says Isaac, putting his right forefinger 
on his left thumb, and moving on from finger to finger 
as he counted ; " there is William, Isaac, Anthony, Lucy, 
Mary and Sarah;" or rather, to tell it as he did, "there 
is Billy, Ike, Tony, Luly, Molly and Sally." He made 
no remark about Tony. "I am proud of Billy," he said; 
"they have nicknamed him Langaloo, and he is pretty 
nearly, if not quite, equal to Patrick; but I think Patrick 
knocks the black out of him sometimes. Patrick, when 
he speaks, stirs the boys so that I've seen them jump up 
and crack their heels together, and slam their caps on the 
ground and stamp them. I have seen a fellow, under 
Patrick's inspiration, seize another by the collar and 
wheel him around off his feet for no other assignable 
cause than that inspiration, and the other hardly conscious 
what he was doing. Billy, you see, don't come up to 
that quite ; but I have heard him speak on election days, 
and he would roll his rich words into the crowd until the 
very hair would stand on my head, and I would cry like 
a baby." Uncle Isaac skipped the other sisters, and said : 
" Sally, she first married John Syme, of Petersburg, and 
secondly. Col. John Henry, who was the father of Patrick, 
the first constitutional governor of Virginia. Some of 
old Isaac's blood courses through all of your veins. But 
I tell them all, 'handsome is as handsome does.'" 

We cannot pause to fill up all the gaps, for in this 
restless, roving, ever-moving, never-tiring population, 
they are as Uncle Toby said, " Here to-day and gone to- 
morrow." To-day they are whacking down primeval 
forests, living in log cabins with mud chimneys — imitat- 



THE WINSTON FAMILY. 



67 



ing dirt-daubers; to-morrow, in the city, vieing with 
nabobs, roUing in carriages, surrounded with velvets, 
silks, tapestry, and all such paraphernalia; then pushing 
onward for new lands — liunting for the place where the 
sun sets. The generations are scattered, and natural 
marks lost and forgotten. They are driven from the old 
hives, and if new gums are not provided, will clean out 
hollow trees and make new honey in the wild woods. 

We cannot avoid adding of this Sally Winston, daugh- 
ter of Isaac, and mother of Patrick Henry, what Wil- 
liam Wirt says of her in his life of Henry : " She pos- 
sessed in an eminent degree the mild and benevolent 
disposition, the undeviating probity, the correct under- 
standing, and easy elocution, by which that ancient family 
has been so long distinguished. Her brother, William, 
(Langaloo,) the father of the present Judge Winston, is 
said to have been highly endowed with that peculiar cast 
of eloquence for which Mr. Henry became afterwards 
so justly celebrated." 

Mr. Pope, our old friend Billy Pope, of Powhatan,. 
says : " I have often heard my father, who was intimately 
acquainted with this Wm. Winston, say, that he was the 
greatest orator he ever heard — Patrick Henry excepted." 

We now come back to Geddes Winston, and as we are 
able to tell of his family, we shall tell it in our own w^ay. 
We can count on our fingers, and use rather more of 
them than old Isaac did, and shall have to take both 
hands to do it. " Let me see," as old Isaac said. There 
was Rebecca, the oldest, who married Wm. Kadford, of 
the county of Goochland; Samuel Jordan Winston, who 
w^as named after his grandfather, Samuel Jordan. It 
is curious to see what assistance you wall obtain in 
tracing genealogies by the names parents give their 
children. He lived an old bachelor, and was constantly 
pretending he was looking for that nice little widow whO' 



68 THE TWO PARSONS. 

promised him her hand and heart. But we have heard 
him say in a semi-stage whisper, " what fools these old 
fellows are, who, with one foot in the grave and the 
other out, expect a young girl to be picking up shrivelled 
turnips, as they are, and hunting for fresh blood there." 
But he would add aloud, "Don't tell tlie girls I say so." 

Then there was Mary, the wife of our good Parson 
Blair. We call him good, and cannot help it, for he M'as, 
and deserved the reiteration. 

There was Sarah, the wife of Thomas Rutherfoord, 
wlio was a father among our fathers ; and we will add, 
for we know of what we speak, a father to the fatherless. 

Margaret and Martha, the two youngest, were called 
by all their cotemporaries Peggy and Patsy. The first 
married Dr. John Adams, and the last Captain Henry S. 
Shore. Besides these, there was a younger son, William, 
who was a doctor, and practised his profession with con- 
siderable success in the counties of Hanover and Louisa. 
He married a Miss Shelton. 

We cannot be satisfied, how^ever, with this summary 
process of dismissing the brothers and sisters, w'ith the 
simple enunciation of their names. They we?-e the wit- 
nesses upon whom we rely for the incidents we give of 
our " Two Parsons." " Were,^'' did we say ? Yes ; they 
are all gone now, and there are not many left who can 
describe their appearance, much less relate their interest- 
ing conversations. 

Of Samuel Jordan Winston, we take the liberty to 
quote from Mr. Rutherfoord's memoranda, to which we 
have before referred : " He was the eldest son of Geddes 
Winston; was born about 1766; was a very handsome 
young man, distinguished for his good temper and agree- 
able manners; and although he had not the advantage of 
a liberal education, or of having been brought up to any 
regular profession, was a most pleasant companion; of 



THE WINSTON FAMILY. 69 

great ease of manner, without forwardness; of line ad- 
dress, good temper and sociable habits." He was univer- 
sally known throughout eastern Virginia as old Major 
Winston; but he spurned the epithet olrl. He was 
Brigade-Major and Military-Instructor of the Militia for 
a great number of years. He possessed in perfection the 
imagination to conceive, and the faculty to describe and 
portray, in veri-similitude, the most laughable and mirth- 
stirring anecdotes, composed of real incidents in every- 
day life, so blended and interwoven with the figments of 
his fancy, that you could not tell where reality com- 
menced or fancy ended. He was a born story-teller, 
with the talent to vary the minuti;^ after repetition, 
which gave his stories the charm of novelty, and caused 
him to be always encored, even by those who had listened 
to them greedily over and over again. He knew how to 
adapt his anecdotes to the company and the circumstances 
by which he was surrounded. He saw things on their 
funny side, and could extract amusement where others 
saw nothing but melanchol}^, and his descriptions defied 
competition. While no gravity could keep its counte- 
nance, and no composure fail to yield to the merriment 
his thoughts and language would elicit, his countenance 
was imperturbable. One of the charms about him was, 
that his manner indicated implicit belief in all the cir- 
cumstantial details and most extravagant exaggerations 
his fertile fancy would playfully fabricate. He never 
said a harsh word of any one, nor uttered an unkind re- 
mark to wound the most sensitive feeling. There was 
something in his stories rather " too high," as we would 
say of venison when it has been hanging too long; but 
epicures relish such venison, and delight in the flavor. 
He, himself, would say, " I would not shock brother 
Blair or brother Buchanan with this kind of refinement " 
— winking at the word "refinement" — "nor would I de- 



"70 THE TWO PARSONS. 

sire to tell jokes from the pulpit; but when the boys 
want a little merriment after a long military drill, it re- 
lieves the tedium, and keeps them in good humour until 
the bu2;le sounds to horse." His stories would relieve 
any man from a lit of the blues. 

In the latter part of his life he was getting too far 
advanced for active employment, and Laurel Grove, his 
old home, had put up more chinquapin and whortleberry 
bushes, more sassafras and persimmon grubs, than he 
•could well subdue, and the wheat and oats were thin, and 
corn rather scarce in the crib. But before " the years 
drew nigh when he might say, I have no pleasure in 
them," the Legislature came to the rescue, and he was ap- 
pointed by the House of Delegates its sergeant-at-arms. 
With stately step and military air he would ever and 
anon, with dignity becoming the situation, proclaim, " Si- 
lence in the lobby!" The truth was, on such occasions 
he generally intended saying, "Silence in the House;" 
but from respect to the Speaker, whose duty it was to 
preserve order there, he would cast the censure on the 
lobby. 

Rebecca Winston, the eldest daughter, was a frank, 
cheerful lady, and at the time of which we write possessed 
much of the freshness of youth. She resembled her mother 
in face and person more than any of the sisters, and had 
a good deal of her brother Jordan's talent for description 
and anecdote. There were few children she could not 
attract by telling them incidents of the Revolutionary 
war. She married Wm. Radford, of the county of Gooch- 
land, who afterwards moved to Richmond, and for some 
time resided in the large frame building, with a two- 
storied portico in front, which then stood on the 
corner of Grace and First streets, on the square at pre- 
sent owned by Mr. James Thomas, and which he has con- 
verted into handsome houses for his sons-in-law. Mr. 



THE WINSTON FAMILY. 71 

Radford was at one time joint-owner with Mr. Ruther- 
foord of the Albion Mills, in Richmond, and subsequently 
became the proprietor and manager of the Eagle Tavern in 
its palmy days. Mr. Radford, when a mere boy, in the 
seventeenth year of his age, while on a visit to Mr. Win- 
ston's family, at Laurel Grove, had gone with the crowd 
to Hanover Courthouse to hear one of Patrick Henry's 
great speeches. Henry was urging his hearers to rise 
against the English, rush to arms, save their liberties, 
and never be contented until their independence was se- 
cured. Such was the eifect produced that a company was 
instantly formed, which Radford joined against the will 
of his mother. In spite of her urgent entreaties, he could 
not be persuaded to return. 

In the celebrated raid of General Tarlton to Charlottes- 
ville, which he made with the design of capturing tlie 
Governor (Mr. Jefferson) and the Legislature of Virginia, 
Radford, and a part of the company to which lie belonged, 
were captured and sent as prisoners to England, where 
they were confined in the Tower of London. After hav- 
ing been imprisoned there for a long time, neglected and 
forgotten, he and his comrades, with a great deal of in- 
genuity and perseverance, managed to escape, and suc- 
ceeded in o;ettinai; across the Eno'lish channel to France. 
They were treated with tlie utmost hospitality by Lafay- 
ette, and furnished with ample funds to enable them to 
return to Virginia. 

When he reached his former home he found it unin- 
habited and desolate, and not having received any intelli- 
gence from his mother, and obtaining no information 
about her, he visited Laurel Grove with the intention of 
tracing her, through the instrumentality of her old friend, 
Mrs. Winston. There he ascertained that she had mar- 
ried a gentlem.an by the name of Prather, from the State 
•of Maryland, and had gone with him to live upon the 



72 THE TWO PARSONS. 

land given to lier sister and herself by her father. This, 
her father's old homestead, was situated in the county of 
Tyler, now in West Virginia, and was the site upon which 
the town of Sistersville was subsequentl}'' located. This 
town derived its name from these two sisters. He heard, 
too, that his mother had a son since her marriage with 
Prather, and since the birth of that son had removed to 
the State of Maryland and died there; he could hear no- 
thing further about her after diligent inquiry. At Laurel 
Grove he became acquainted with Miss Rebecca Winston,, 
and subsequently married her. 

Our readers are thus in possession of information ne- 
cessary to make them acquainted wdth Mrs. Radford, 
Mrs. Blair's sister, and will understand the connection ex- 
isting between these families, as they shall be referred to 
in subsequent chapters. 

There are other links in the chain we are weaving 
Avhich we must endeavour to describe. The third daughter, 
Sallie, deserves more than a passing notice. The devotion 
of these sisters to each other so continually threw them 
and their families together in most intimate relations, 
that we cannot speak of one without in .some measure 
alluding to the others. Their husbands and our good 
Parsons were so friendly and cordial in their intercourse, 
that when any circumstance is related of one, the others 
are necessarily involved, and the circle is not complete 
without their presence. We will permit Mr. Rutherfoord, 
who knew her best, to speak of her in his own words : 
" When I first knew^ her," he says, " about the beginning ^ 
of the year 1787, she was in her eighteenth year, of deli- 
cate and extremely interesting appearance, and much ad- 
mired for the sweetness of her manners, which were rather 
too retiring to attract general notice. At this time, how- 
ever, in her ow^n neighborhood, she was a belle, and a 
good deal courted. She possessed a sweetness of voice 



THE WINSTON FAMILY. 73 

which enabled her on many occasions to delight ns with 
her exquisite music. Her placid and agreeable manners 
did not fail to interest me, and perhaps the more because 
I saw she was not in the enjoyment of full health. I 
suppose I did my best to render myself agreeable to her, 
as she always appeared pleased with my attentions ; and 
it soon became evident that I was more attracted to her 
than to any other female of my acquaintance. Our inti- 
macy and seeming mutual attachment, became therefore 
a subject of rather general notice amongst our acquaint- 
ances, whilst as yet no profession or propositions of love 
had passed our lips. I was uncertain whether, after visit- 
ing my friends and the land of my birth, I should again 
be enabled to return to this country on such terms as to 
induce me to take up my abode in it ; I therefore felt 
myself restrained from making any declaration of love, 
or soliciting a return, and she, 'conscious of worth that 
would be wooed, and not unsought, be won,' of course 
was also silent." 

It is amusing to listen to the accounts of our ancestors- 
when telling of their loves, but we cannot go into the par- 
ticulars of this courtship. Mr. Rutherfoord, as we have- 
seen, speaks of visiting his friends in the land of his birth,, 
and this affords an opportunity of saying that he was 
born in Glasgow, in Scotland, on the 9th of January,, 
1766, and came over to Virginia to engage in mercantile 
pursuits at the early age of eighteen. He was sent out 
by his friends with a cargo of goods of various descrij> 
tions, amounting in value to ten thousand pounds sterling, 
entrusted entirely to himself to manage, the cargo being 
mostly on their own account. Suffice it to say, he met with 
varying success, until at last he entered business on his 
own account, and commenced the purchase of tobacco,, 
carrying on a large wholesale mercantile establishment 
5 



Y4 THE TWO PARSONS. 

besides, and laid the foundation for the fortune he after- 
wards acquired. 

We will return, however, and permit Mr. Rutherfoord 
to unfold to us the way in whicli the people of his day 
entered into a matrimonial engagement. He says, " At 
last I was emboldened to make a declaration of my love. 
This happened when we were paying a visit in a carriage. 
Of course it took a great many words to express all I had 
to say," and as happens nine times in ten, the expression 
of all this brought him to the place to which he was go- 
ing before he could even expect a reply. After the ice 
was broken, he waited on her at her father's, and she re- 
ceived him with much kindness ; without finally commit- 
ting herself, she referred him to her mother, who left him 
at liberty to ingratiate himself with the daughter and the 
rest of the family. And after all this he says : " The 
ardour of my attachment drew from my beloved the con- 
fession of a mutual flame." The happy day was fixed 
for the 21st of August, 1790, and during the interval he 
spent the time with her at Laurel Grove. " At length 
the happy day arrived ; the nuptial knot was tied by our 
good and worthy friend, the Rev. Mr. Blair, in the pre- 
sence of many of the friends and connections of the family, 
and also of Mr. and Mrs. William Hay, of Richmond, 
who had been long acquainted with our mutual passion, 
and now participated in our joy." 

Thus, with the assistance of one of them, we have in- 
troduced two more of this family circle to our readers. 
And we must still further invoke that assistance, for we 
find in his memoranda the follow^ing paragraph : " Besides 
her, there were two younger daughters, Patsy and Peggy, 
the one about four and the other six years younger than 
their sister, Sally, both promising to be handsome and 
agreeable, as they turned out to be. In truth, I do not 



THE WINSTON FAMILY. T5 

know whether I ever saw a handsomer woman than Patsy 
was when she arrived at her prime." We have said 
elsewhere that these two sisters came with their parents 
to live at Mr. Rutherfoord's house, and, therefore, his ac- 
count of them is more reliable than any other we could 
give. "About March, 1795, the marriage of Miss Patsy 
Winston with Mr. Henry S. Shore took place at my 
house. I have said before she was a most promising- 
girl. As she advanced to womanhood her disposition 
and manners kept pace with the beauty of her person. 
Kever have I seen a more striking beauty than she was 
at the time of her marriage. As the sweetness of her 
disposition developed, I took such an interest in her that 
I scarcely knew a man whom I thought worthy of her." 
Mr. Shore held the position of both Recorder and Mayor 
of the city of Richmond, and was also Captain of the 
Richmond Blues, as we shall see hereafter from a cor- 
respondence between Parson Blair and himself. 

We are going through with our introduction to the 
Winston family, and their large circle of connections and 
friends. Mr. Rutherfoord is a good witness, and though 
what the lawyers would term a swift witness, on account 
of his bias and natural partiality, yet a true and faithful 
one, in whom all contidence may be placed. "Some- 
where in the month of January, 1799, Dr. John Adanig 
was married to our sister, Peggy, (identifying himself so 
far with his wife as to call her sister — ' our sister.') This 
marriage was greatly to our satisfaction, for we regarded 
him as a gentleman every way worthy of her, and having 
the fairest prospects before him. A remarkable circum- 
stance occurred on this occasion for which I have never 
been able to account. An eight-day clock which I had 
imported from Liverpool soon after my marriage, and 
which had been frequently out of order, and had not been 



76 THE TWO PARSONS. 

going for some time, suddenly, and just when Dr. Adams 
and one of his friends came into the house for the celel)ra- 
tion of his marriage, struck, and continued sti'iking about 
two hundred times or more, when it ceased, leaving us to 
wonder at the phenomenon." 

No man possessed greater influence or wielded more 
energetic authority than did Dr. Adams when he was a 
member of the city council and the honored mayor of 
the city, for a number of years. He secured an extremely 
efficient police, and became the terror of evil-doers in the 
mayor's court. He undertook the thorough grading of 
the streets, levelling hills, tilling up valleys, and giving it 
the appearance of a live city. He gave an impetus to its 
docks and wharves, and commenced those wonderful im- 
provements in its buildings in all the eastern portion of 
the city, which have shown their effects from that day tO' 
this. He was the proprietor and builder of the Union 
hotel, and many of the largest warehouses and manu- 
factories, and inaugurated lines of stages to every part of 
the State. Few men ever exhibited, for his means and 
opportunities, more enlarged views and gi-eater enter- 
prise. He was a gentleman, moving in the first circle 
of society, and his large family was one of the centres of 
attraction in the city. 

There was another brother of these sisters, whom we 
cannot omit; this was Dr. William Winston, the second 
and youngest son of Geddes. In his earlier days his 
education had been a good deal neglected. As he ad- 
vanced in life, how^ever, he not only exhibited a strong 
desire for the study "of medicine, but thenceforward de- 
voted himself assiduously to its acquisition as a profes- 
sion. He attended the medical lectures in Philadelphia, 
graduated there, and afterwards practised his profession 
with considerable success in the counties of Hanover and. 



THE WIJSrSTON FAMILY. 77 

Louisa. His memory is cherished in many of the best 
families, as their physician, in whose skill great reliance 
was placed. 

We have thus prepared our bark to take on its cargo 
and crew any where, and with such friends we may push 
our boat to any harbour with entire satisfaction. 



CHAPTER y. 

THE MARRIAGE OF JEMMY WINSTON. 

PARSON BLAIR and his wife were cosily seated 
together, when she asked : "' How are you going to 
Hanover? You promised, you know, to marry Jemmy 
Winston and Phcebe Overton at Pole Green meeting- 
house day after-to-morrow, but your horse is too lame to 
travel. I am anxious to go witli you, to pay a visit to 
brother Jordan. Can't you borrow a horse and' buggy ?" 

"Well; I hate to borrow," said the good man; "and 
Remus may get over his lameness." 

" Paris says there is something more than lameness the 
matter with the horse. I'm sure," she said, " our friend 
Mr. Gibson will lend you his horse and buggy, particu- 
lai'ly when he knows you want the horse for your wife. 
When he reflects you are a parson, he will lend him with- 
out hesitation. Besides," she added, "if he does not 
intend to use him, it will be an accommodation to him to 
have the horse taken care of and regularly fed. At any 
rate, he will lend him to you as a friend." 

" Dear, dear, dear, better reasons were never assigned. 
It is an accommodation to the owner to lend his horse to 
everybody to have him fed and attended to. I am a 
parson, and it will pay for the preaching; and when a 
lady's in the case, all other things give place. Well, well, 
well, I'll make the effort." 

So, in a little while, he sent the following note to Mr. 
Patrick Gibson, his friend and neighbor : 



the marriage of jemmy wijstston. 79" 

" Dear Sir : 

" We're going to ' see the world ' — of course 
Our first enquiry's for a horse. 
My wife, expert at calculation, 
And cunning in negotiation. 
Suggests that you, from impulse pious, 
Will, at a word, with this supply us, 
By reason (just to urge the 'farce on,') 
That she's my wife and I'm a parson. 
Forgetful that these Sabbath-day-men 
Are held as nothing by the laymen. 
But then, as seldom she's inclined on 
Surrendering what she sets her mind on, 
And never at a loss, in season, 
For urgent and conclusive reason, 
She added, if you do not need him. 
You'll gain by having not to feed him. 
Both reasons, then, are set before you. 
To try which has most influence o'er you. 
If you shall think the last the Ijetter, 
Then send the horse, and be our debtor ; 
But if you're of a different mind. 
And wholly to your interest blind, 
Take your own way at last, and lend 
Just purely to oblige a friend. 

"Yours, J. D. B." 

Mr. Gibson not only sent -the horse, but a handsome 
buggy; and man and wife, in pleasant mood, wended 
their way to the old church in Hanover, where the 
marriage cei-emony was to be performed at twelve o'clock. 
The invitations were very general, and couched in the 
following terms: "Mr. James Winston and Miss Phoibe 
Overton will be married at Pole Green Meeting-house on 
Wednesday next, at 12 o'clock. After the ceremony, 



80 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

reception at Mrs. Overton's. Glad to see you." Mr. 
Jemmy Winston was the son of old Isaac's son Tony, 
whom we heard of in our fourth chapter, and, therefore, 
was Mrs. Blair's cousin. 

He w^as a young farmer, well enough to do — had a 
pretty fair farm, with everything about it clean and neat 
— gates in order, fences repaired, garden well weeded, 
vegetables growing as if to be eaten by a bride, and even 
on the parlour mantle a vase of flowers, as if fixed by a 
lady's hand. The truth was, Jemmy had some old family 
servants given him by his father ; and being industrious 
and having some taste, he, with their assistance, had 
brought things about him in man-of-war shape — "a place 
for everything, and everything in its place." Jemmy's 
old mammy, too, having a pride in fixing up for "young 
mistis," had gathered some white and red roses^ and white 
jessamine, and fixed them quite tastefully in the old flower 
pots. The bridal chamber, though everything was very 
plain, looked as clean and tidy as a new pin ; and Jemmy 
had even bought a new mirror for the bureau, for he 
thought to himself, " Phoebe is right down pretty, and 
will like to show herself off to the best advantage, and 
will take pleasure in smoothing her hair. There is no 
necessity," said Jemmy, " to be pinching cheeks or biting 
lips, for ' they are like rubies — all rubies above.' They 
have been tinged by the fresh air of the morning, where 
the dew and the first dawn of sunlight can kiss them. 
The pores of the skin have not been filled with powders 
and starch, but the blood courses under the skin in a 
healthy current, and when a blush comes, the cheek fairly 
burns." 

Jemmy was a merry farmer, lived in the neighljor- 
hood of old Major Winston, and had many a hearty 
laugh with him listening to his jokes; was full of fun 
and innocent mischief, and was much beloved. "Miss 



THE MARRIAGE OF JEMMY WINSTON. 81 

Phoeb," as he called her, was his "pet lamb," and his 
friends knew her by that name. She was plump, rosy 
and as full of merriment as he ; was the only daug-hter of 
Mrs. Overton, an old friend of the Winston family, and 
Jemmy and herself had a hankering for each other for 
several years. She possessed not a particle of coquetry, 
and ^when Jemmy asked her to marry him, in a half 
joking, half earnest way, she replied : " When you have 
made up your mind. Jemmy, I'll make up mine." 

"Done," says Jemmy. 

"Done," said Plicebe. 

Courtships are queer things. They are sometimes 
fanciful in the extreme. You are travelling a road full 
of cross roads and branches leading in every direction, 
and do what you will, you are almost certain to take the 
wrong one. The first thing you know, you come right 
up against a fai-m gate, and you see, beyond perad- 
venture, that you have lost your way. You back out 
with the greatest difficulty, turn and twist about, this way 
and that, and before you know whether you are right or 
wrong, find an immense tree fallen down across the road ; 
in fact, evidently cut to obstruct the way. You back out 
again, and determine to return to the place at which you 
took the wrong road, when, before you get there, you 
perceive another, wliich you are induced to take because 
there are tracks which look fresh and newly travelled ; 
and you trot along, around and about, without further 
impediment, until first one object, then another, appears 
familiar. So completely have you been bewildered that 
you are uncertain whether you have ever seen them be- 
fore ; V»ut on and on you go, until, without knowing how, 
you find yourself at your own barn. All this time your 
lady-love is getting up and going to the window, then 
sitting and trying to read, without the power to do so, 
believing that she is uncared for and neglected. 



82 THE TWO PARSONS. 

This was not the case however with Jemmy and Phoebe. 
" Done," says Jemmy ; " Done," says Ph(X^be, and the com- 
pany were invited and the Parson was on the way to make 
them both very happy, simply because each of them 
uttered the same word at the same time. 

Sister Blair said, "She must call and see brother Jor- 
dan. It would never do to pass him by. She wanted 
to see ' Laurel Grove,' too. She had not been at ' Laurel 
Grove ' since her father's death. It was the place where 
she was born. Brother Jordan was a confirmed old 
bachelor, and she wished to see whether he was com- 
fortable." 

The Parson said, "It is getting late. I am afraid 
Jemmy and Phfjebe would make faces at each other if 
they had to wait." 

"It won't hurt them," she said; "and there' is brother 
Jordan sitting in the old porch. I know he is waiting for 
us. There stands his horse — of course he is going to the 
wedding." 

"Mar}'," said the Parson, "I always did say you could 
give more reasons to carry your point than any woman 
in Christendom." And he drove through the open gate. 

Jordan said, " I have been looking: for vou all the morn- 
ing. I expected you to breakfast. Get out, sister." 

" Old bachelors' breakfasts !" said Parson Blair. " Peach 
and honey, and then honey and peach. Falstaif's bread 
and sack, but more sack than bread." 

" Fried chub," said the Major. "New eggs, fresh but- 
ter and cream right out of the well, where we keep it 
cool; good bread, and p'each and honey to boot." 

" I'll take them now," said the Parson ; " I never re- 
fuse fresh cliub." 

" Brother," said sister Blair, " I'd rather have one of 
your best melons out of the well — the fish is cold." 



THE MARRIAGE OF JEMMY WINSTON. 83^ 

" Not at all," said the Major, " I was just going to have 
the chub for a snack." 

" Bi'other Blair can have the chub, and I'll give you a 
melon hard to l)eat." 

He said, " I'll have the horse fed, and we Mali let 
Jemmy wait." He called out in a military tone, " Frank."^ 

" Yes, sir." 

" Heads up, eyes right. Feed that horse. Quick ! 
March !" And, resuming the thread of his discourse, 
" They don't jump broom-sticks here. Wait for the Par- 
son, wait for the word, Amen. Jemmy is a lucky dog," 
said the Major. Then, looking in the dining-room, said, 
" Here's the chub, caught since sunrise, fluttering in the 
pan, kicking on the table. Fit for a king or any parson. 
Come, sister. How is Becky, and Sally, and Patsy, and 
Peggy ? How is brother Buck ? Good old fellow ! Up 
to snuff with anybody, and don't hesitate to say ' mind 
your pints ^. I thought he Would have come along ; kept 
the peacli and honey for him ; Brother Blair don't like 
it." 

The Parson ate the chub, while the Major hauled up a 
basket out of the well containing one of the largest melons 
that ever was raised in the county of Hanover, and of all 
the counties in the State, Hanover seems to be better 
adapted to the growth and perfection of watermelons and 
canteloups than any other. It has been notorious from 
generation to generation ; the masters know, the negroes 
know, how to manure the land, how to work the melons, 
when they are precisely ripe, and the necessity of keeping 
them cool as the coldest water will make them. Simms' 
watermelons, and Jones' and Carter's melons cannot be 
surpassed. We remember, in our boyhood, the water- 
melon carts in August, covered with thick-leaved limbs, 
passing through the streets, and how we rejoiced to hear- 
cried : 



84 THE TWO PAESONS. 

" Fine watev millions^ fresh and fine, 
Jnst from the vine ; 
Blaclv seed, red meat, 
Full of juice, and so sweet. 
Those who have money, come up and buy, 
Those who have none, stand off and cry. 
y^?itev millions, ini\&kmillio?i6; very nice." 

"I have a (iouple more,"' said brother Jordan, (cutting 
open the huge mekm and revealing the most delicious 
meat, full of juice,) "a couple more to take with you on 
your return. Carry them to sister Becky and sister 
SaWy. I wish I had something better to seud.'' 

" When I marry the widow Marron," said brother Jor- 
dan, "you will all have to come out here to make the 
roost fit for two. But," said he, " I rather think, sister, 
her roost will be better tlian mine. Peach and honey 
both grow there; l)ut I defy her to beat the A\''inston 
melons." 

In the meantime the entire company who were expected 
had assembled at the church, except the Parson and his 
wife and Major Winston. Jemmy had become exceed- 
ingly fidgety, walking up and down the church aisle, go- 
ing to the door, looking down the road, and finally he 
lost his spirits, however merry he was inclined to be. He 
went under a tree and sat in a cart, followed by his 
groomsmen. 

" Now," said he, " this is some of Major Winston's 
devilment. I'll bet he has let the Parson's horse get out 
of the stable. Suppose I was to send Phosbe word I had 
changed my mind ! That pet lamb !" said he, in a pity- 
ing tone. The truth was, the thought that she might 
change ker^s was in his mind. 

" I'll take her off your hands," said Thom Wingfield. 

"You?" cried Jemmy. "There is not a man in this 



THE MARRIAGE OF JEMMY WINSTON. 85' 

crowd can do it." He said it in a pleasant tone, indicat- 
ino; his entire confidence in Phcfbe. 

Some of them went and repeated what he said to one 
of the bridesmaids, and she repeated it to Phoebe. "Tell 
him," said she, langhing ; "he'd better not be too certain. 
Some people have two strings to their bow." And the 
message went straight to the cart. Jemmy jnmped npon 
the nearest horse tied to the fence, and rode down the 
road as swift as the horse conld carry him. He made up 
his mind to ride to Major Winston's, and hunt him up at 
least, believing the Parson was there. 

They told Phoebe, Jemmy had gone oif in a fury as 
soon as he heard what she said. 

" I am not afraid of Jemmy, nor is he afraid of me," 
she said, perfectly calm. " We know each other like a 
l:)ook." He had scarcely got out of sight, when he met 
the Major, and saw the Parson in the buggy close behind. 
Wheeling his horse, he went back like mad, without 
saying a word to either. His heart was full. 

He dismounted, tied the horse, went to the church 
door, and said: "Phoebe, they are coming." 

The little heart pit-a-patted ; there was a crimson blush, 
and she made her fan flutter. Jemmy's spirits rose as 
high as the quick-silver could go. " How are you, Ma- 
jor ?" " You are late. Parson," said Jemmy. " Cousin 
Molly, did you keep them back ?" " No," said Parson 
Blair ; " you are only in a hurry. Jemmy. You have not 
acquired the patience of Job yet, but you have got the 
pet lamb at last, and you will l)e happy." 

"When you fix the noose," said Jemmy. 

They hurried the Parson direct to the chancel. Brother 
Jordan led sister Molly to old Mrs. Overton, and he went 
up to Phcebe, and said: "Is this Jemmy's pet lamb?" 
Another crimson blush suffused the entire face. 

" You had better take me," said the Major. She tapped 



^6 THE TWO PARSONS, 

him with her fan. Phoebe never loolved better in her 
life. In her white robes and modest veil, without affec- 
tation, she looked her best, and everybody said she was 
one of the sweetest brides they ever saw. Jemmy, from 
his excitement and his ride, had brightened up exceed- 
ingly; and when she placed her arm in his, and they 
walked up the isle, followed by the groomsmen and 
bridesmaids, neatly and tastefully dressed, two and two 
together, it was a pleasant sight. We have them at last 
close up to the Parson; the church full; no organ to 
peel forth the grand entre, "Behold the conquering hero 
comes." 

In consequence of the delay, no time had been af- 
forded for preliminary questions, and Parson Blair, with 
his usual solemnity and gravity, addressing Mr. Winston, 
said: "I presume you have the marriage license?" 

" Oh, yes," says Jemmy ; and fumbling in his pockets, 
first in his pantaloons, and then in his vest, without finding 
it, lie finally drew from the inside of his coat his pocket 
book, tied with a green tape string; and putting the end 
of the string in his mouth, opened the book, and handed 
the Parson a paper neatly folded. The good man imme- 
diately opened the paper, and running his eyes over it, 
blandly smiled. 

" Did the clerk of the court issue this paper as a mar- 
riage license ?" said Parson Blair, in a solemn tone, with 
a slight twinkle of the eye in the direction of his brother- 
in-law. Major Winston. 

"Yes, sir," said Jemmy; "he certainly did." 

" I am sure," said the Parson, " it is all right, but I 
would not be justified in marrying a couple under the 
State law with such a license." And he read aloud: 

" Mr. White will please deliver to Mr. James Winston 
my pet ewe lamb. Thomas Oveebt." 

" Stop," says Jemmy ; " that's not it," talking with the 



THE MAKRIAGE OF JEMMY WINSTON. 87 

string still between his teeth, and hunting among a num- 
ber of receipts and other papers. 

Major Winston immediately stepped up to Jemmy's 
side, and held out to him a small bottle of aromatic salts, 
to prevent his fainting. 

"No occasion, Major," says Jemmy. "Ah! here is the 
license." 

The Major gave the military salute, raising his hand to 
his forehead, with the palm to the front, and resumed his 
position in line. It was simply impossible not to laugh. 
The bride tittered; the company were convulsed with 
merriment. Jemmy, for the first time in liis life, lost his 
self-possession. Everybody knew he called his intended 
his pet lamb. The truth was, he had bought Mr. Over- 
by's pet ewe lamb as a fancy, associating the lamb with his 
sweetheart, and intending it as a present to her. 

When the lamb order was replaced, and the pocket 
book retied. Jemmy regained his confidence, and the 
Parson assumed his wonted gravity, which had been mo- 
mentarily disconcerted. The Parson then proceeded with 
the ceremony according to the usual form adopted by the 
Presbyterian clergy. 

We do remember an exceptional form of pi'ayer ut- 
tered by one of the shining lights of the Church, who in 
his simplicity prayed that they miglit always have their 
lamps trinnned and their bread-baskets full. 

Instead of tliis formula, the Parson having put up a 
fervent prayer to the Almighty for temporal and spiritual 
blessings, pronounced the benediction, and then said to 
the groom : " Salute your bride." 

Jennny obeyed the injunction with a will. 

Major Winston cried out: "Attention! keep your eye 
on the fugleman." He then followed Jemmy's example, 
and all the rest went through the manual after the fashion 
of the fugleman. 

Jemmy had a handsome turnout for the bride, and 



88 THE TWO PARSONS. 

helping her into his carriage, and then Mrs. Overton, who- 
was insisting upon Mrs. Blair's returning to the reception? 
he jumped in himself, and with prancing steeds, gaily 
caparisoned, they rolled away, and the merry-making- 
company followed, as chance should guide, without re- 
spect to the order of their going. 

Marriages, as a general thing, only occur once in a life- 
time, and it is natural on such occasions to put the big 
pot into the little one ; in fact, after placing everything 
in the neatest possible order, to turn them upside down 
for the sake of the frolic; and girls and boys in the 
country like of all things to whirl each other round and 
round until their heads are giddy, (they did not dance the 
"German" in those days); the fiddler enjoys the fun,, 
rosins his bow, gives his elbow additional oil, and makes- 
his fiddle talk. The cook heats her furnace many times 
hotter, and wrings off the heads of her victims merely to 
keep up the flutter. The law^n is full of every imagin- 
able style of vehicle, from the tumbril to the chaise, and 
horses are neighing, and mules — we do not know a word 
to express their vociferation, but, in a language between 
the German and the Russian, they wheeze forth an un- 
earthly laugh. This exuberance of animal spirits is some- 
times the result of eating fruit in its distilled form — 
apples and peaches, for example — or from simply imbib- 
ing the expressed juice of grapes, or by resurrecting old- 
John Barleycorn after the manner of Burns: 

" They took a plough and ploughed him down,, 

Put clods upon his head, 
And they hae sworn a solemn oath, 

John Barleycorn was dead. 
But genial spring came trooping on, 

And showers began to fall, 
John Barleycorn got up again. 

And sore surprised them all." 



THE MARRIAGE OF JEMMY WIKSTON. 89 

Jemmy had a tearing down wedding, and when the 
Parson and Sister Blair left them, about an hour before 
sundown, Major Winston had a select coterie around him, 
giving in his experience about his courtship with the 
widow Marron, and Jemmy and the boys shouted until 
the hills re-echoed with their merriment. 

When Parson Blair arrived at home, he sent old Paris 
with the horse and buggy to Mr. Gil)son, with the follow- 
ing note: 

" I now send back, kind sir, your horse, 
And as I hope, in naught the worse. 
Save as the truth I can't conceal, 
I own he sweated a good deal ; 
But then, I think, the cause of that 
Was that the horse was over fat. 
And that kind nature, by depletion, 
Thus counteracted inflammation. 
My celebrated horse, old Remus, 
Of the horse-kind, sans doute, supreiaiis^ 
Can carry me from morn till night. 
And still remain in driest plight ; 
Por as he is a Parson's horse. 
The poor thing's diet's scant, of course'; 
We judge, and the conclusion's fair. 
That he has not much juice to spare. 

N. B. — This to a neii^hbor and a friend 
In strictest confidence I send ; 
Show you it not, 'twill never do 
To be a priest and poet too. 

"J. D. B." 

The day after the marriage, the bridal party came into 
the city for a frolic, and Parson Blair received the follow- 
ing note from the groom : 
G 



90 THE TWO PARSONS. 

"The Rev. J. D. Blair: 

" Dear Sir : You tied the Gordian knot so handsomely, 
and I am so well pleased Avith my pet lamb, notwith- 
standing the Lamb order, that I send the enclosed as a 
remembrancer and fee. 

" Yery truly your friend, 

"James Winston." 

Thereupon Parson Blair immediately dispatched the 
following to Parson Buchanan : 

"Dear Brother: 

" I have just received twenty dollars as a fee for marry- 
ing Jemmy Winston. To settle tliat old-standing fee 
account between us, I have tnade the necessary entries, 
and I am gratified to find the account is now precisely 
balanced. J. D. B." 

Answer : 
"The Rev. J. D. Blair: 

" I am delighted to hear it. I was afraid the necessary 
entries would entrench upon your fee. I know you are 
a first-rate accountant. 

" Sincerely, J. B." 

About a week after the poetical note to Mr. Gibson, 
though the injunction was "show you it not," that gentle- 
man read it to his friend, Mr. Alexander Fulton, of 
^' Mount Erin," who stored in his memory the couplet — 

" For, as he is a parson's horse. 
The poor thing's diet's scant, of course." 

As soon as he reached his country seat, he sent Parson 
Blair as a present a wagon load of clover hay. 

The idea of having a load of hay without a horse to 



THE MARRIAGE OF JEMMY WINSTON. 91 

eat it (for Remus had died since his return home) amused 
the good man, and smiling at his own thoughts, he said : 
^'He is so kind, I sliould not be surprised if he should 
send a horse to eat it." He sat down and indited the 
following : 

"To A. Fulton, Esq. : 

'"'■ Mo%i7it Erin, near' Richmond : 

" Accept my thanks, sir, ten times over. 

For your wagon load of clover ; 

To you I'll make amends for that 

By covering my horse with fat ; 

That is to say, when I get one, 

For at the present I have none, 

Which makes my obligation stronger, 

Because the hay will last the longer; 

However, I am looking out. 

And always keep my eyes about. 

To find a steed I tnink will suit 

For riding, and the gig to boot. 

I ever was, and still will be. 

Your friend and servant, J. D. B." 

Answer : 

" Wednesday Night. 

^' To the E-ev. John D. Blair : 
" Dear Sir : 

"Your note of thanks I just have got, 
Beturning from my fields, quite hot; 
Amends I seek not for my clover ; 
Those you have made me ten times over. 
My wife and children, night and day, 
Prompt me for J. D. B. to pray. 
I wish I had a handsome steed 
To suit your reverence, now in need. 



92 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Should such a nag come in my view, 
Doubt not, my friend, I'll think of you. 
Believe me, without pro or con^ 
Your humble servant, A. Fulton." 

And when Parson Blair read the reply, he said 
" Well, well, well, I was not far WTong, — 

" For if a good nag he should see, 
Of course, kind man, he'll think of me." 



CHAPTEK YI. 

PARSON BUCHANAN MINISTERING TO THE SICK. 

WE wish to give our readers a further insiglit into 
tlie kind heart of Parson Buchanan. He has 
called this morning at the house of Parson Blair for his 
daughter Betsj. She is a cheerful, laugliing, saucy lass, 
healthful and blooming, with a pretty face and jaunty 
mien ; but she has that great drawback to beauty in the 
estimation of many — a full suit of red hair, rich ringlets 
curling naturally without defect, but unmistakably red. 
She has learned to be useful in all domestic concerns, and 
no one knows better how to render assistance around a 
sick-bed than she. She is perfectly easy in the society 
of the good Parson, from his great intimacy with her 
father and mother, and looks upon him as she would on 
her grandfather. They are M'alking along, arm in arm, 
chatting as cosily as two lovers. He has en his right-arm 
a good sized basket, covered with a neat wliite napkin, 
and seems to be as happy as his companion is joyous. 

" I am going to take you to see a poor sick woman. 
She has been a highly respectable woman in her day, and 
is a most worthy one now ; but the long sickness of her 
husband, and his subsequent death, with the children she 
has to support, and her own illness, have brought her to 
extreme poverty, and I fear to the verge of the grave. 
She lives in a miserable shanty, with no comforts around 
her, and I wish to see what we can do to relieve her dis- 
tress. She is a Scotchwoman, whose husband, Alexander 
Brown, a countryman of mine, came here only a few 



94 THE TWO PARSONS. 

years ago. He was a hard working, industrious and sober 
man, and was doing very well until afflicted with disease. 
She attended him wdth all the kindness and affection of 
the most devoted wife, and has evinced the same affection 
for her children since ; but adversity has pressed hard 
upon her, and those children, whom she always kept clean 
and neat, and tried to train in all that was right and good, 
are now almost vagabonds in the streets. 

" I have asked Dr. McCaw to give the poor widow his 
medical advice, and he is doing his best for her, but thinks 
she is in a critical condition. I generally talk to her in 
the Scotch dialect, because it seems to revive old recollec- 
tions, and it soothes her, bringing back old friends and 
associates to her mind." 

They reached the poor woman's house, and' a gentle 
rap at the door w^as answered by a feeble voice, saying, 
" Come in." 

He went to the sick w^oman and took her by the hand. 
" I hope ye are better, Mrs. Brown." He felt her pulse, 
and laid his soft hand on her forehead. " I hae brought 
my little sweetheart wi' me to cheer ye up a bit." 

" The gude Lord bless ye," she replied, and a faint 
smile lighted up her faded eye as it glanced upon that 
cheerful face. " Come near me, hiney ; ye look sae 
sonsie." Our Bet gave her hand, and gently smoothed 
the disheveled hair. 

" A little fever yet," she said. 

" Ah, yes, hiney ; nae sleep, and unco dreams, and 
muckle cares." 

" But, Mrs. Brown," interposed the Parson, " we'll get 
ye up for a' that. Ye're nae sae bad as ye seem to think. 
I hae brought ye something to gie ye strength ; ye want 
nom-ishment, Mrs. Brown. Maybe a little jelly w^ad 
taste your mou'. And here's some chicken and nice 
bread for the liairns, and a wee drap o' wine for your 



MINISTERING TO THE SICK. 95 

ainsel." He took from the basket a little jar of jelly and 
handed it to Bet, and a bottle of old port, and poured out 
a mouthful or two into a little cordial glass, and brought 
it to the side of the bed. Our Bet delicately carried a 
teaspoonful of the jelly at a time to the poor woman's 
mouth, and placed it between her lips ; then, gently rais- 
ing her head, she gave her a taste of the wine. When 
she laid her down there was a grateful glance, and the 
tears just glistened in her eyes. She slowly shook her 
head. , 

" Ah ! wae's me ! it will nae a' do ; there's a flittering 
in the auld heart, hiney, and the saul seems ready to gae. 
I hae nae lang to stay. Parson, and what'll become o' the 
bairns ? That's a' that keeps the spirit hovering here. 
Ah ! if I could only hae strength to look for my ain lass^ 
and the ither wee anes ! It is sad and sair, Parson. 
Will ye see to the lielpless anes when the inither is gane ? 
Will ye try to keep them frae harm and frae evil ? They 
hae naething to eat mony times ; very tattered and torn ; 
and I, wae's me ! hae naething to gie. Mony an hour 
there isna ane here to gie me a drap o' water, and I hae 
nae the power to get it mysel' ; and the bairn has gane 
awa." Her dry eyes looked wistfully in his face. The 
tears trickled down our kind Bet's cheek, and her lips 
quivered with emotion. The good Parson, who was ac- 
customed to sorrow and tales of woe, heaved a deep sigh, 
and extending his hands said : 

" Dinna be sae sair, Mrs. Brown. We will take care 
o' the bairns, and send them to school. They sha'nna 
\vant ; but ye shall get well yoursel', Mrs. Brown. Ye 
maunna think o' deeing. I know ye are prepared, and 
rely upon the gude Shepherd ; but, then, ye may live mony 
years, and be a blessin' to your bairns." 

" It will nae be," she persisted ; and she looked doubly 
anxious. " There is something on my mind, Parson, 



96 THE TWO PARSONS. 

— about my child. Ah I I fear the worst." Her lips 
turned like ashes. 

The Parson, thinking only that she wanted the children 
fed and. attended to, said, "Ye maun remember the 
words of the Good Shepherd. Ye ken He said to Peter, 
' Lovest thou Me V and then He said, ' Feed My lambs.' 
It is the duty of gude people now to feed the needy ones, 
not only with the Bread of Life, but to minister to their 
temporal necessities. We will see that they are cared 
for, Mrs. Brown. And then, my gude woman, ye maun re- 
member what the psalmist said, ' I have been young and 
now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken 
nor his seed begging bread.' Cheer up, Mrs. Brown, 
we'll send a gude woman to help ye to care for yourself, 
and keep your bairns neat and clean ; and here is some 
siller to buy what ye may need," and showing her his 
purse, he gently placed it under the pillow. " And ye 
maun eat some mair jelly, and drink a mouthful mair of 
wine now and tlien to keep ye strong, and let the bairns 
dip into the basket." Our sweetheart smoothed the bed- 
clothes, and made up the pillow, and laid her head in a 
cooler place. 

" Ah ! but. Parson !" A deep sigh seemed to heave 
her troubled breast, as though it were the last. She paused, 
as if fearing to unburden her heart, and then looked from 
one to the other with a mournful expression. " What am 
I to do ! My girl. Parson !" And turning to our Bet, said, 
" My daughter, dear ! I have tried to bring her up in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord; but she was winsome, 
and though owre 3'oung, — nae mair than fifteen, — she had a 
lover, — a gude man, I thought; but I have been sick sae 
lang, and sometimes daft, and couldna watch and guide, 
and the twa were left ane wi' the ither. And, Parson, they 
were married without my presence. Alack-a-day ! And 
now she has gane frae hame, and left her ain mither to die 



MINISTERING TO THE SICK. 97 

:and starve. I dinna care to die ; but disgrace, Parson ! 
■Gane, I ken nae whitlier. And I, wae's me ! am left to 
mourn and to die. I hae wepit and wepit until my auld 
een hae gane dry. Alas ! it lies heavy on my auld heart, 
and I canna rest, nor day nor night. The neebors hae 
kindly made enquiry, but hae nae tidings ; and I, my auld 
limbs winna move ony mair !" 

She placed her shrivelled hand upon her heart, and 
said, "It'll break! I feel faint, hiney !" She turned 
deadly pale, and lay speechless and motionless. Our Bet 
ran hurriedly to the basin, dipped her handkerchief in the 
water, and wiped the pallid brow and face, while Parson 
Buchanan administered a spoonful of the wine, and the 
poor soul revived and looked vacantly around. " Eliza," 
she called. There was no response. 

"Dinna speak, Mrs. Brown; ye are owre weak." She 
shut lier eyes, and her whole frame shook; and he gave 
her a little more of the wine, and the color came again 
to her cheeks. 

At this moment Evelyn, a colored nurse belonging 
to Mrs. Munford, who lived in the neighborhood, came 
in to enquire after the poor woman, sent by her mistress 
to give such assistance as she might want. The Parson 
said, "My girl, stay here and attend to Mrs. Brown, until 
I send the docitor and a nurse, and I will pay you for 
your trouble." 

"And now, Mrs. Brown, we maun gang awa'; dinna 
talk ony mair now ; dinna disturb yoursel' about the 
bairn. She maun be in the city. We will find her, gude 
woman, and send her hame. We will send a gude nurse, 
and the doctor will como till ye, and ye maun ne'er be cast 
•doun." She shook her head, and then closed her eyes as 
if weary unto death. 

He felt her feeble pulse, and said, " God will not de- 
sert you." And Bet took her by the hand and pressed it 



98 THE TWO PARSONS. 

kindly. " We will come and see you again." As they 
went along, the Parson said, " ' It is better to go to the 
house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting: 
for that is the end of all men ; and the living will lay it 
to his heart.' We must get your mother and her kind 
sisters to look after the nurse, and see that Mrs. Brown 
is properly cared for. I will make diligent enquiry for 
the girl; and the young bairns must be kept out of the 
streets. Here is work for the true Christian. Now, dear, 
I must part with you here; tell your mother what you 
have seen, and ask her to go at once to that house of 
sorrow. She had better go by Mrs. Munford's, and let 
them take with them a good nurse, who can stay with the 
helpless woman, and minister to her necessities. I will 
remunerate the nurse. The poor woman will -not suffer 
many days ; she is going the way of all flesh." 

Then Parson Buchanan, with his warm heai't full and 
his sympathies thoroughly aroused, went directly to the 
house of Mr. Robert Greenhow, one of his parishioners, 
who was an overseer of the poor, and from his position 
acquainted with the police of the city. 

"Greenhow," he said, "I have come to consult you 
about a poor woman, a Mrs. Brown, who is respectable, 
and was once in good circumstances. She lives in a 
small house near the State armory. Her husband is 
dead, and she is left in extreme poverty, with three chil- 
dren, and is very ill, perfectly helpless, and almost in a 
starving condition. She is at the point of death, and 
cannot live more than a day or two. I have endeavoured 
to provide for her immediate wants; it is about the chil- 
dren I desire your aid. She has a daughter, who is young 
and pretty, and who says she married a man privately, by 
the name of White, and they have either gone off together 
or are still somewhere in the city ; but it is probable that 
he has persuaded her to abandon her mother, and accom- 



MINISTERING TO THE SICK. 99 

pany him to some other place. Then there are two little 
boys, who are wandering about the streets begging for 
bread, and likely to become vagabonds. They will neces- 
sarily, as far as I can see, become chargeable upon the 
parish. I want you, as a "good Christian man and ofhcer, 
to exert your influence to have them protected ; and more, 
can't we get the aid of the police to look for and restore 
the girl to her unhappy mother ?" 

Mr. Grreerihow said, "What was her husband's name?" 

"Alexander Brown," said the Parson. 

" Then," said Mr. Greenhow, " I think I have a clue to 
the girl already. About a week ago, when ray servant 
opened the front door in the morning, there was a covered 
basket on the door-mat, which he brought in, and said,. 
'Here is a basket I found at the door, and there is a 
baby in it.' Upon examination, we found it to be so ;. 
there was a new-born babe, very plainly dressed, but 
comfortably wrapped in a new blanket, fast asleep, and 
on its breast was pinned a slip of paper with these words 
upon it : ' Alexander B. White.' I sent the babe to th& 
poor house, and directed a proper nurse to be provided 
for it. The worthy matron there informed me the child 
is doing well. We have made all enquiry for the mother, 
but the only trace we have had of her is that a well- 
dressed man by the name of White, and a very delicate- 
looking young woman took passage about the time the 
basket was found, in the stage for Lynchburg. We have 
written to ascertain whether any further trace can be ob- 
tained from that town, but as yet have had no answer." 

Now, we will add that, though fifty years have elapsed 
from that day to this, no further trace has ever been 
found of Eliza Brown, the unfortunate daughter of the 
dvino; woman whose fate we have here recorded. Neither 
White nor herself ever made enquiry for their destitute 
child, and no one is able to tell where thev went or what 



100 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

has been their fate. Such is the sad story developed by 
the visit of Parson Buchanan. Having learned this 
mnch, and believing further search of no avail, the Parson 
returned to his home. He was very sad, but felt that he 
had performed the part of a neighbor to a poor helpless 
woman. 

He took his arm-chair, opened his Bible, in which he 
had made many italicized marks and marginal comments, 
and calmly read page after page of the inspired word. 
At length, closing the book, he sat musing over the events 
of the day, and the part his little sweetheart, as he called 
her, had played in the morning visit. He then thought 
how often he had heard it said, " What a pity it is she 
has red hair. In spite of this she is really quite hand- 
some, and she is so ver}' kind-hearted." He, took up his 
pen and devoted an hour to writing, and when he had 
tinished, folded what he had w^ritten in letter form, and 
directed his servant to carry it to Miss Betsy Blair. 

Having a copy of the letter by us, we give it as char- 
acteristic of his playfulness and kindness. He even 
wished to contribute to the happiness of everybody, by 
making them better pleased with their personal appear- 
ance. 

"Miss Blair: 

"In my younger days, I well remember, I was gifted 
by nature with hair of a color similar to yours, and 
though time has not much thinned, it has considerably 
changed its hue. A wag, in those days, willing to have 
a little sport at my expense, exclaimed that my head was 
all in a blaze. I was thrown into a momentary conster- 
nation, but at last found that he alluded to the radiancy 
of my locks, I was glad it was no worse, and gave him 
•due credit for the brilliancy of his wit. 

"None, I dare venture to say, will treat you in this 



MINISTERING TO THE SICK. 101 

unfeeling manner; but, perhaps, among your own sex 
some may be found, who, not being able to discern any 
personal or mental defect, will malignantly point to your 
hair. Should this ever happen, you may console yourself 
with the following anecdote concerning the celebrated 
Christopher Smart, and with reading some beautiful 
verses written by him on the occasion. He, who was a 
very affectionate lover, as well as an ingenious poet, was 
enamored in his youth of a lady who, though tender 
and beautiful, was, in the opinion of many of her charit- 
able and rival sisters, a mere dowdy, because she had red 
hair. Indignant at the abuse lavished upon his fair one, 
the poet undertook the apparently ditiicult task of prais- 
ing hair of that color. He accordingly wrote a song, 
entitled " The Lass with the Golden Locks," which im- 
mortalized his mistress. 

"The praise is finely and classically unfolded. The 
simile in the initial lines of the second stanza is one 
of the most beautiful in poetry, and in the closing 
stanza the office of the charmer's eyes is most happily 
worded : 

" ' No more of my Harriet, of Polly no more, 

Nor all the bright beauties that charmed me before; 
My heart for a slave to gay Yenus I've sold. 
And bartered my freedom for ringlets of gold. 
I'll throw down my pipe, and neglect all my flocks, 
And will sing to the lass with the golden locks. 

"'Tho' o'er the white forehead the gilt tresses flow. 
Like the rays of the sun on a hillock of snow, 
Such painters of old drew the queen of the fair, 
'Tis the taste of the ancients, 'tis classical hair ; 
And tho' witlings may scoff, and tho' raillery mocks,. 
Yet I'll sing to my lass with the golden locks. 



102 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" ' To live and to love, to converse and be free, 
Is loving my charmer, and living with thee ; 
Away go the hours in kisses and rhyme. 
Spite of all the grave lectures of old Father Time ; 
A fig for his dials, his watches and clocks. 
He's best spent with the lass with the golden locks. 

^' ' Than the swan in the brook she's more dear to my sight, 
Her mien is more stately, her breast is more white ; 
Her sweet lips are rabies, all rubies above ; 
They are fit for the language or labor of love. 
At the park, on the street, at the play, in the box, 
My lass bears the bell with her golden locks. 

^' ' Her beautiful eyes, as they roll or they flow. 

Shall be glad for my joy, or shall weep for my woe ; 
She shall ease my fond heart, and shall soothe my soft 

pain, 
While thousands of rivals are sighing in vain ; 
Let them rail at the fruit they can't reach, like the fox, 
While I have the lass with the golden locks. 

"'J. B.'" 

In the playfulness which existed between the good 
Christian brothers and their families, which constituted 
the charm of their private lives, this kind epistle was an- 
swered for his daughter by Parson Blair, and the answer 
sent by her in her own name : 

"■ To THE Key. John Buchanan : 

'' To you, reverend sir, I return from my heart 
My best thanks for your verses from Christopher Smart ; 
I rejoice, sir, to find, among sages of old. 
Red hair was depictured by ringlets of gold ; 
So henceforth, if the witlings shall scoff at its looks, 



MINISTERING TO THE SICK, 103 

I'll refute all their malice from classical books. 
You tell me in prose, yet in poetic phrase, 
Tour own head was once said to be in a blaze, 
But changing of late, aud no doubt for the worse, 
You've put grey on your head and the gold in your purse ; 
Your example, however, this lesson will teach, 
To be red in one's youth is the way to be rich. 
But ' my father insists ' that ' the taste of the fair,' 
Is at present in favor of classical hair ; 
For that those to whom nature has been less indulgent, 
Oet red wigs from the barber to make them refulgent; 
It is my fairer lot, then, as long as youth blooms. 
To be quite in the fashion without borrowed plumes. 
" Your young friend, 

"E. D. Blair." 

Beauty, and the adornments that make up the beauti- 
ful, are matters of taste, and it is fortunate that heaven 
has so decreed it; for in the vast variety of human faces, 
the features that compose them, and in the color and dis- 
position of the hair, every taste is provided for, every eye 
is gratified, and every heart finds some one to cling to 
and love. 

Fashion not unfrequently makes that which is esteemed 
at one time a beauty, at another an object of aversion. 

So the poets have changed with their fancies and loves, 
and we have songs lauding " The lass with the lint-white 
locks," " The lass with the raven locks," and " The yel- 
low haired laddie," and so, too, " the mild blue eye," 
" the coal-black ej'e," " the diamond eye," and " the 
poet's eye in a wild phrenzy rolling ;" and some have 
even found beauties in the squinting eye. As for the 
Parson's sweet daughter, she was l)lessed with a bevy of 
beaux, some of whom would have " bartered their free- 
dom for ringlets of gold ;" some of whom could not see 



104 THE TWO PARSONS. 

the ringlets for the sparkling; of the eye and the beaming,, 
smiling face. Others, again, were attracted by the jaunty 
air, the sweetness of temper, the kindness of heart, and 
the sprightliness of the mind. Any of them would have 
rejoiced in saying : 

" Let those rail at the fruit they can^t reach, like the fox,. 
When I get the lass with the golden locks." 

She contented herself with singing, " I'm owre young, 
to marry yet." 



CHAPTER VII. 

PARSON BLAIR'S SERMON: " I GO A FISHING." 

OH ! for some place where I can think, — where the 
mind can revel free, — where the sonl, when it feels 
an inspiration, may breathe forth its outpourings in adora- 
tion of the Diety, — where the heart may unloose its loves, 
its friendships, its pleasures and its woes; where, when 
reading or dreaming over a pathetic scene, the big tear 
may start without a cold eye to moderate, or an unbidden 
laugh to chill and congeal it ! Oh ! for a private spot, 
where uninvited footsteps may not intrude, and the very 
fear of interruption may not prove a '■'•mare clausum^'^ to 
the mind ! What can be more trying to an author in the 
the full tide of composition, when the mind is working 
as smoothly as a well oiled machine, and you see the 
wheat separated from the chaff, and all ready to be stored, 
than a visit from one of those good prosy fellows who 
sits down cosily, and delighted to see you, begins in his 
dull way, going back to Adam, and a little before Adam, 
and tells you the minutiae of his affairs througli all the 
succeeding generations; all of which he has narrated be 
fore, without a particle of variation, yet oblivious of ever 
having mentioned the subject to a human being in the 
whole course of his life ? It is a painful thing to fret 
internally, and still remain apparently polite, when all the 
while you wished to terminate the enjoyment of the in- 
truder b}^ taking him by the collar and leading him gently 
to the door. After such an interruption you see in your 
mind's eye the little angels that were unfolding the 
7 



106 THE TWO PARSONS. 

treasures of your l)ram, and laying them before you to be 
read and daguerreotyped with all their beauties of colors 
and shading, gently closing the doors and folding up the 
jewels, until all are hid and gone. Whea these things 
take place you are ready to go off into caniptions, and 
lament the day you were born. 

Thus soliloquized Parson Blair, when he had seated 
himself in his study (if a room to which every member 
of the family had free access could be so-called), to com- 
pose his sermon for the approaching Sabbath. lie took 
up his Bible reverently, and silently turned over its leaves 
until he reached the twenty-first chapter of the gospel 
according to St. John. Then he said, "Here is Jesus 
after His resurrection, showing Himself for the third 
time to His disciples, at the sea of Tiberias, where there 
were seven of them together." Then he stopped at the 
third verse, " Simon Peter saith unto them, I go a fish- 
ing." " This shall l)e my text." 

Just as he had reached this point, had removed from 
his mind its pre-occupying thoughts, and had begun to 
spin the thread for a train of ideas with which to weave 
the woof and warp of his discourse, an old-fashioned Vir- 
ginia darkey, who was pretty much mistress over the 
younger brood of the family, and certainly over all the 
other servants, both because of her age, respectful de- 
meanor and general good character — in fact was what we, 
in former days, called " mammy," entered abruptly and 
said, " Master, missis say, dar aint no sugar in de house, 
.and she sent me to axe you please send for some coffee." 

Patience is a great virtue. The good man blandly re- 
plied, "Pll attend to it by-and-by." Then, having always 
had a keen sense of the i-idiculous, he soliloquized after 
this fashion: "'She sent me!' Dear, dear, dear, 'To axe 
you !' As if I was a log of w^ood to be cut up with an 
axe. Where did the creature pick up such language ? 



PARSON BLAIr's SERMON. 107 

Because there 'aint no sugar, please send for some cof- 
fee,' " and then he rummaged in his pockets and said, "A 
Flemish account of empty boxes." But the sugar and the 
<3offee must be forthcoming. He shut up the Bible, and 
said aloud, " It is of no use ; I am not in the vein." He 
picked up his pen again and took another tack, in order 
to remove these last thoughts vidth something more 
sprightly ; and as we have a copy of the letter he wrote, 
we will make a few extracts, to show how he relieved his 
mind when he was otherwise disposed to fret. The letter 
is directed to Mr. John Rutherf oord, Dublin. Mr. Buther- 
foord was the nephew of Mr. Thomas Butherfoord, who, 
we have seen, married Mrs. Blair's sister. 

" BicHMOND, IZth FeFy, 1806. 

" Dear Sir : I have had a letter ready for you ever 
since some time in October of the last vear, and I mention 
it to show that I have not been unmindful of you; but 
I have never known of an opportunity of sending it. 
Indeed, I never go to your uncle's, or to his worship's, 
without thinking and hearing of you." 

We will simply say, that his worship was no other than 
our old friend, Barson Buchanan, who occupied so much 
of his thoughts, and upon whom he took so much pleasure 
in cracking a sly joke. The good Barson was known to 
have no taste either for fishing or hunting, and therefore 
had no skill in either, while Barson Blair, being fond of 
both recreations, was a first-rate shot and a skilful angler. 
But we will permit him to proceed in liis own way: 

" His worship now and then talks about shooting per- 
drix on the ground and catching them in traps ; but I 
tell him, as to you, I certainly saw you shoot one on the 
wing. Your uncle, who you know deals in tobacco, has 
seldom failed to tell me of his late advices from your 
side of the water; such particularly as inform him that 



108 THE TWO PAESONS. 

his cargo proved superior to the choice selection of fifty 
hogsheads which you made while in this country. Such 
and so various are the tastes of men !" 

He then talks of other matters among the connections 
of the family. 

" Pray have you seen the celebrated river or brook in 
which the Colonel killed so manv salmon in a forenoon ? 
I am not certain whether it was in Scotland or the West 
Indies, but should suppose it was in the place farthest 
distant from America. I think he told us he killed a 
gross between breakfast and dinner, and from the number 
one would conclude that the exploit had been achieved at 
Khodes, where, you know, the man in the fable made the 
great jump. If I remember right, our calculation made 
it about three salmon in four minutes, or two in three 
minutes, which certainly must have been very expeditious. 
It must have been fatiguing besides ; for supposing, as I 
think he stated, each fish to have weighed five pounds,, 
they must have been equal in all to about thirteen fifty- 
sixes. This must have required such exertion of his 
muscular powers, that I dare say he slept without rock- 
ing the night after. I believe, indeed, that you enter- 
tained a suspicion that he only dreamt it. Unacquainted 
as I was with the catching of salmon, I could not judge 
so well as you ; but he told us marvelous things, too, 
about his shooting grouse on the mountains, and I really 
did think he shot out of a long gun that time. 

, " You, my dear sir, may be said to be now entering, 
upon life. Remember that you hold it and all its com- 
forts on a precarious tenure. Then let no company nor 
temptations of any kind seduce you from the principles 
of piety and the practice of virtue, which are infinitely 
the most valuable, and the only lasting portion. 
" I am, dear sir, your respectful friend, 

" John D. Blair." 



PARSON BLAIr's SERMON. 109 

This was invariably tlie way in which he endeavored, 
in the midst of pleasantry and temporal affairs, to lead 
the mind to think on greater pleasures in store for the 
righteous in the world to come. The anecdote of fishing- 
was no doubt brought to his mind by the text he had se- 
lected. 

Having thus come back to the solemn and the serious 
mood befitting the theme he had chosen, he again took up 
his note-book and began jotting down the outlines for his 
discourse. We have had the advantage of running over 
these notes, and the thoughts for this sermon are mostly 
taken from them. 

" ' Simon Peter saith unto them, I go a fishing. They 
say unto him, We also go with thee.' We note that the 
Saviour, after His resurrection, does not chide those 
whom He had chosen to gaide and govern His Church 
for attending to their secular aifairs. These apostles 
were fishermen. They were partners in ships, in seines, 
in the business and occupation of fishing, by whicli they 
supported themselves and their families. Peter, in par- 
ticular, we know had a wife ; for we are told in the Bible 
that his wife's mother lay sick of a fever. Early writers 
testify that she was a most devoted wife, and followed 
him in all his travels, and clung to him in all his perils, 
faithfully ministering to him in the blindness of his old 
age, through all his troubles, to his terrible end. Her 
name was Perpetua ; and it is well for good wives to have 
their names registered, not only in the hearts of men, but 
perpetually in that final home suited to their lovely char- 
acters. 

" Fishing, by individuals, is an occupation which has 
the advantage of being an amusement, a recreation, an 
unbending of the mind. It affords time for meditation 
without the intrusion of others. It furnishes food in 
moderate supply for an ordinary family. If carried on 



110 THE TWO PARSONS. 

as a business by co-operative industry, and men devote 
their labor continually to it, it not only gives employment 
to large numbers of people, supports them and their 
families, but gives a scope for extensive operations with 
large capital. It becomes the nursery for a national ma- 
rine, aids in building up a navy of hardy and experienced 
navigators to protect and defend the country, and is the 
prolific source from whence is drawn the material for 
carrying on the commerce of the world." 

He had just advanced thus far when his little son, Tom, 
came running into the room, full of glee, in the eager- 
ness of youth, catching him by the sleeve, and saying : 
" Oh ! pa, here is the man with the organ and the monkey: 
Do, pa, do come and see him. Oh ! he is cutting so 
many capers. Please, pa, give me a four-pence,-ha'penny 
to give to the monkey." 

" Dear ! dear !" said the patient man. " The monkey ! 
What has become of Peter !" 

" Peter," said Tom, " I saw him working in the garden 
just now." 

" Well, well ! Peter working in the garden ! I thought 
he had gone a-fishing." 

" No, sir ; he is rolling out the grass from the aspara- 
gus beds. Oh ! pa, do come and see the monkey !" 

He gave the child the money, and said, " Don't bother 
me again with organs and monkeys." Tom ran away 
overjoyed, but the idea of Peter working asparagus beds 
would not flit away. " I was just thinking," he said, "of 
St. Peter, who had been crucified in his old age with his 
head downwards, the position he had begged for himself 
in humility, as unworthy to occupy, even in death, the 
position of his blessed Master." 

" Oh ! Mr. Blair, one of the children has fallen down 
the steps and hurt his arm," cried Mrs. Blair. 

The kind heart drew a long breath, a smothered sigh — 



PARSON BL air's SERMON. Ill 

first for the interruption, and then for the cause — hustled 
the papers into the table drawer, and went forth im- 
mediately. 

There was a terrific scream, and then the holding of 
the breath, and when nature required an exhalation, 
another scream. The bystanders had picked up the child 
and stood him on his feet, and he was bawling lustily. 
The Parson turned upon his heel and retreated quickly 
into the house. He was met by his sister, Hannah. 
" What is the matter, brother ?" " Nothing," he said. So 
it turned out. When a child is severely hurt, it rarely 
cries loudly. The little scamp, in his hurry to give the 
fourpence to the monkey, had fallen down the steps and 
skinned his elbow — that was all. In a few moments he 
was capering around the monkey, which was dressed in 
a red uniform, with a cocked hat under its arm and a 
pair of specs on its nose, and peeping and peering, was 
catching everything thrown to it wdth invariable certainty. 
So much for the monkey and this unfortunate interrup- 
tion. The man with the monkey, however, was not satis- 
fied. Seeing the Parson going back into the house, he 
followed him and said, " Parson, don't you wish to see a 
picture of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego in the fiery 
furnace ?" This was too much for the Parson's gravity ! 
The man who could compose himself to write anything 
worthy of the attention of an intelligent audience after 
such scenes must be more than mortal. 

He threw himself back in his chair, put the feathered 
end of his pen between his teeth, and looked up at the 
ceiling. Then the association of ideas brought up the 
thoughts relative to Simon Peter. He mused and said, 
"I can follow Peter's example — ' I go a fishing.' I know 
I lack the order from the Lord, ' Go thou to the sea and 
cast a hook, and take up the fish that first cometh up ; 
and wdien thon hast opened his mouth, thou shalt find a 



112 THE TWO PARSONS. 

piece of money ; take that and give unto them for Me 
and for thee.' But that was to pay faxes, not to buy 
sugar and coffee. I can at least compose my mind by 
the side of a quiet stream, and gather my scattered 
thoughts. Yet this will probably be the result : notwith- 
standing all the evidence we have in the Bible of the best 
of men fishing and hunting, and of the Master of the best 
of them approving and ordering it, yet some of the good 
people who are righteous overmuch will think it sacrilege 
for a parson to go a-iishing. I have already had rebukes 
whispered at me for doing the self-same thing. I can 
only reply, ' Ye blind guides, which strain out a gnat and 
swallow a camel. Woe imto you, scribes and Pharisees, 
hypocrites ; for ye make clean the outside of the cup and 
the platter, but within they are full of extortion and ex- 
cess.' But what is that to going deliberately to see a 
farce?' " So the first thing we know, we find the Parson 
wending his way along the banks of a shady pond (it was 
Bowles' pond), a few miles from the city, and hear him 
talking to himself : 

"Worn with the routine of the school 
And with the mental strain 
Of teaching boys by rote and rule 
The same thing o'er again, 
I come for recreation and for meditation ; 
''I take my fishing rod and lines 
And seek the limpid streams. 
Where pike and chub near beech and pines 
Dart swift as lively dreams." 



We see him with a few green willow twigs twisted 
into a hoop, and winding around this hoop the ends of 
his large silk handkerchief, forming a net, and skimming 



PARSON BLAIr's SERMON. 113 

in the deep holes emptying from the pond. He is catch- 
ing minnows from the brook, which he carefully drops 
into a bucket of fresh water, to serve as bait and to keep 
them alive. Some kind heart will say, "Fishing with 
live minnows, how cruel !" He seats himself upon an 
old log, near a clump of brush, then prepares for the 
sport. He takes his cane, the gift of his old friend, and 
nicely screws its joints together, forming a beautiful rod. 
His newest hooks from their case, he inspects one by 
one; examines the lead, scrutinizes the cork, poises it, 
nnwinds the silken line, adjusts it to the rod, takes out 
the freshest minnow and carefully puts it on the hook, 
so as not to wound it more than possible. He drops the 
line gently just outside the clump of brush, and patiently 
awaits the coming of the finny tribe. In a little while 
the minnow begins to revive and moves very slowly along, 
the cork upon the unrippled water showing the weakly 
motion. 

There was a stillness one could almost feel. Not a 
sound, no one near, all quiet and serene. The good man 
begins to ruminate. " The Master said, ' Come ye after 
Me, and I will make you to become fishers of men.' 
'And Jesus said unto Simon, Feai- not, from henceforth 
thou shalt catch men.' '" He mused here, and thus so- 
liloquized : 

" To catch fish there must be time, place and circum- 
stance. The same thing is applicable to tlie fisher who 
is endeavoring to catch men for his Master's table. If 
you neglect this simple rule, you may angle a life-time 
in vain. You cannot catch fish with a hook and line 
without suitable bait. Plain bread for some, a worm for 
others, a buzzing fly and a jumping minnow for tlie 
ravenous. Nor can you catcli men with the same food. 
Man, of all animals, is the hardest to please in his appe- 
tite. What he eats to-day with a relish disgusts him to- 



114: THE TWO PARSONS. 

morrow. The oratory which attracts now is stale and 
insipid then. Some will he satisfied with skimmed milk. 
Nothing will suit others but the finest flavors, the juciest 
viands, the richest seasoning, the fattest and freshest 
solids, served up in silver and gold, and garnished with 
imagination's raciest, rarest and most tempting appetizers. 
Some are wearied with the fislierman, worried with his 
mode of fishing, despise his hooks, turn up their noses at 
the lightness of his corks and the heaviness of his leads. 
Some thiow their nets on the wrong side, and in the 
wrong way, and toil all night and catchno fish. Others 
heeding their Master's command, in full confidence and 
faith ' cast the net on the right side of the ship,' ' and 
now they are not able to draw it for the multitude of 
fishes,' 

" Some fish are very shy — dart off if you move ; others 
play around your feet. Some men have wings if you 
open the Bible in their presence. But they have their 
feeding times, like fish. There are times when fish will 
not bite, though you place their favorite bait within reach 
of their mouths. At other moments they will scarcely 
wait until the hook touches the w^ater. They snap at it 
in the twinkling of an eye. It is the part of a good 
fisherman for men to humor tlieir whims and warily 
watch for the appropriate opportunity. They are like 
cattle in the morning rapidly passing over a field, leaving 
often the best and richest grass, and seeking the bare and 
poor spots, but coming back in the evening and delight- 
ing to crop what they had before neglected. So," said 
he, " you must study the habits of fish. You must do 
more in fishina; for men. You must search into the 
depths of human nature. You have to open up to their 
view the panorama of heaven and of earth, with their un- 
told riches and all their mao-nificent surroundings. You 
must fly on the wings of the wind to keep pace with the 



PAKSON BLAIr's SERMON. 115 

rapidity of their aspirations. If you soar with the wings 
of the morning, with all its freshness, they are still rush- 
ing onward and upward. If you come like the Sun of 
righteousness, with healing in His wings, they will scarcely 
pause to take the soothing balm. You must study with 
more than twenty years of lucubration all characters, 
both sexes, all ages. You must know how they are at- 
tracted, by w^hat they are caught, and how^ they are 
gathered into the fold. The theme opens upon my view, 
' I go a fishing.' " 

He looked up ; suddenly the cork bobbed up and 
dowTi twice ; then it ran along two or three feet. In a 
moment he had ea(;h muscle strung to its utmost tension. 
He looked as rigid as a pointer with eyes and head 
slightly turned towards a flock of partridges. With 
nerves keenly excited, he held his breath, and gazed at 
the cork with intense anxiety ; then raised the rod wnth 
cautious hand, and gently tightened the line. In an in- 
stant down went the cork ; he gave a rapid twitch, and the 
line fairly whizzed through the w^ater in the opposite direc- 
tion, until it was stretched to its full extent. The sud- 
den check whirled the huge fish over. It then ran towards 
the surface, and flounced its tail out of the water with a 
splash ; and, seeing the parson, darted with the rapidity 
of light to the bottom ; then, changing direction, ran for 
the shore, bending the rod until every moment it was in 
danger of being snapped in twain. The experienced 
angler slipped the rod gradually backward, and catching 
the line wound it round his hand, saying, " Aha, old fel- 
low, I've got you now ; go ahead." 

We have heard Parson Buchanan on such occasions cry 
out, " Play him, brother Blair ; play him." But brother 
Blair was up to all that sort of thing, and knew what he 
was about. He began forcing the fish to the surface, 
and when he found it worried and almost exhausted, he 



116 THE TWO PARSONS. 

gradually curtailed the line, bringing it nearer and nearer, 
till at last he flounced it on the ground. It was a mag- 
nificent chub, weighing six or eight pounds, fluttering, 
gasping, bouncing, seeming determined never to surrender. 
He found the hook sticking securely, and as he took it 
out, said, " That is precisely the way some men act when 
they feel the workings of the Holy Spirit. They resist 
with might and main, but by and by they are very still 
and tractable." 

But now the fish began to bite in earnest, rapidly and 
most excitingh^ He could scarcely arrange himself • to 
his work before bite after bite indicated there were many 
playing around his bait. Sometimes he was a little too 
quick — didn't give them time enough; they would snap 
and run, and then let go ; then he waited too long, and 
the}'^ would take his bait; but ever and anon he caught 
large and fine fish, and had all the sport he desired. 
Pike, silver perch, chub — some of the largest and finest 
the pond contained. " This silver perch," he said, " is 
brother Buchanan's ; he enjoys its juicy relish." And so 
he went on, never forgetting brother Buchanan, until, be- 
copiing fatigued, he threw himself upon the grass, and 
opened a bucket he had ]:)roiight along, and found wrap- 
ped in a clean napkin a nice lunch his good wife had 
daintily and carefully provided for his comfort, to say 
nothing of his hunting flask and cup, containing a little 
something for his stomach's sake. " Simon Peter's wife," 
he said, "no doubt flxed up many nice things for Peter and 
his friends when they went a-fishing ; but my wife, I 
think, could beat her making pickle, curing ham, and 
broiling chickens. I doubt whether Peter's wife would 
touch a ham, for I dare say she was a Jewess, and a pretty 
Jewess too, for they are always pretty. What a blessed 
thing it is that bacon and greens and jowl and turnip- 
tops are not prohiliited now. The only fault of my wife 



PARSON BLAIR'b SERMON. IIT 

is that she is not Perpetual." And while he lay resting 
himself, he mused as before upon his theme : " What a 
pity it is that we should have an enemy among us fishing 
for men. Ah ! the devil is a marvellous tempter. He 
throws his lines, and takes especial care to hide his hooks. 
They are covered with the most fascinating baits. He 
fished for our Saviour. ' And the devil, taking Him up 
into a high mountain, showed unto Him all the kingdoms 
of the world in a moment of time.' And he said, ' All 
this power will I give Thee, and the glory of them ; if 
Thou wilt worship me all shall be Thine.' A most 
tempting bait ; and he assured Him, ' To whomsoever I 
will, I give it.' How many men and women would have 
resisted this offer ? Suppose I were to say to them, Be- 
lieve on the Lord Jesus Christ — nothing more — and I 
will make you president of the United States. Would 
they bite ? Suppose I were to say, not to make it too 
tempting, Here are from two to five hundred thousand 
dollars; believe and be baptized, and they shall be for the 
man and his children who can reach them first. There 
would be such a rush I should be in danger of being 
trampled to death. 

"When the devil is fishing, he most generally tempts 
his fish with silver hooks and golden bait. Ah! but he 
does not limit himself to silver and gold. He offers the 
bait of Vermillion cheeks and cherry lips, diamond eyes 
and flowing ringlets. Aye, ambition too is an inviting 
morceau. He dresses it up nicely and tickles the palate 
with self-deluding flattery, with public applause, ci-ying, 
'Hear him, hear him.' They take out the horses from 
his carriage, and yoke themselves to the traces and draw 
him through 'the streets. They tickle his pride with 
public preferment until the victim is prepared to say and 
apply it to himself, ' Lift up your heads, O ye gates ; 
and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, and the King of 



118 THE TWO PARSONS. 

fflorv shall come in.' Forc-ettirii!; that there is one who 
asks, 'Who is the King of glory?' And who answers, 
'Tlie Lord of hosts, He is the King of glory!' And 
forgetting that He who weighs him in the balances has 
the power to say, ' Depart from Me, ye cursed, into ever- 
lasting fire, prepared for the devil and liis angels.' 

"Another thought presents itself. Fish of the same 
kind swim together, associate together. Different kinds 
keep asunder. You may sometimes find a shark among 
them, taking his prey and frightening them to death. 
But even the shark keeps to his species. You find a large 
school of shad, an immense school of herring, myriads of 
salmon, myi-iads of macherel, every species and genera, 
and of all sizes, coming from the same ocean, sometimes 
one or two different species running in the same stream ; 
but generally each school separate and apart, and each 
species unerringly true to its instincts and habits, as if 
guided by one spirit. There is a Master who impressed 
His law upon them, and they obey it with undeviating 
aun. 

"Do you see no likeness in this to man? 1 speak of 
his intercourse in the churcli. Is there no reason for 
separate and distinct denominations? The world is the 
great ocean. Here dwellcth leviathan, and here, the 
tiniest living thing that hath scales and tins. Thou canst 
not see even with a microscope the ten thousand myriads 
of atoms that float through immensity, all of different 
races and species and genera, governed by laws suited to 
the purposes for whicli they were created. 

" When a mighty monarch gathers his million army to 
go forth to battle, tliey come from every province. Every 
sub-division, each company, each battalion, each regiment, 
each brigade, each division, each corps d'armee under 
sepai'ate leaders, are kept togetlier with one great com- 
mander — the autocrat, and he saith, 'Go, and he goeth; 



PARSON BLAIr's SERMON. 119 

come and he cometh.' Do the corps of the grand army in- 
termix, the one with another ? Mihtary men know better 
than to make this confusion, — this fruitful source of un- 
mitigated discord. They hurl them in masses, preserving 
their distinctions, against the enemy ; and the result is as 
God shall decree. 

"How are the religious sects formed? Our Saviour 
proclaims, ' Search the Scriptures, for in them ye think ye 
have eternal life ; and they are they which testify of Me.' 
They all go to the fountain; but men's minds are various, 
and the reasons which satisfy you will not satisfy another. 
The Bible is like other books, susceptible of different 
constructions. But there is one universal truth wliich 
pervades it, and scarcely a sect denies the essentials to 
salvation. Those who believe that particular passages 
are construed in one way flock together, because their 
belief is more congenial to each other, and there is no 
danger of quarrelling; while those who believe there is 
another interpretation more in accordance with the tenor 
and scope of the Divine word, gather themselves together. 
To keep up their organizations, they require different 
governments and different rules: bishops, priests, deacons 
and elders, presbytery, and every other name in accord 
with their fancy or their interpretation of the Bible, and 
the traditions of the fathers. Where is the necessity for 
dissension among them ? And yet how bitter and acri- 
monious some of them are. How many ordinary members 
can tell what the differences are ? They do not even state 
correctly what their adversaries believe. Why should 
each set up his opinions as the only true and infallible 
standard ? They are both fallible because they are mortal. 
The true principle is for each 'to practise Christian for- 
bearance and charity towards the other.' If God hath 
given unto other sects the like gift as He gave unto us, 
let us receive them with joy and kindness, and we will 



120 THE TWO PARSONS. 

fight the common enemy under the same banner of the 
cross. 

"Oar Saviour selected His apostles from among fisher- 
men. There was a meaning in this. He intended to 
make them fishers of men. Some of His most extra- 
ordinary miracles were performed with fish, and they had 
a signification too, to a thoughtful mind. 

" Once when He sat down in Simon's ship at the lake 
of Gennesaret, and taught the people out of the ship, 
' when He had left speaking. He said unto Simon, Launch 
into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught.' 
'And when they had this done, they inclosed a great 
multitude of fishes, and their net brake. And they 
beckoned to their partners which were in the other ship 
that they should come and help them. And they came 
and filled both the ships, so that they began to sink.' And 
when Peter and all that were with him were alarmed and 
astonished, 'He said unto Simon, Fear not, from hence- 
forth thou shalt catch men.' 

" This miraculous draught of fishes Mas emblematical, 
and was designed to show wliat power they would have 
after they became fishers of men in drawing great multi- 
tudes unto salvation. And when Simon told Him, ' We 
have toiled all night and have taken nothing,' the im- 
mense draught that was taken at the next haul was in- 
tended to show that success in catching men would be 
attended with toil, and many a haul would be made and 
nothing would be taken; but for all that, perseverance 
and patience and launching out into the deep — not skim- 
ming among the shoals, not clinging close to the shore, 
but going forth into the deep abyss of the world — into 
the deep hiding places of iniquity, studying and expound- 
ing satisfactorily the deep mysteries of the Scriptures, and 
^ then letting down the net, multitudes would be caught, 
so great as to alarm and astonish those of little faiths 



PAKSON BLAIr's SERMON. 121 

And the miracle was intended to show that when the net 
bralve and the ships were at)out sinking, they must not 
be discouraged, but beckon to their partners in other 
ships — men of other denominations — to come and help 
them. There must be concert and assistance. They 
must mend and repair their frail endeavors, and make 
sure of the multitudes they could catch. This miracle 
was before the resurrection, before the sending of the 
Holy Ghost, when the nets and the ships were not strength- 
ened by the power that was to come and abide in them. 

" The other occasion was after His resurrection, at the 
sea of Tiberias, when they had again set their nets at 
night and caught nothing. In the morning He saith un- 
to them, ' Children, have ye any meat V They answered 
Him, ' No.' Now they were to go forth no more in the 
night, groping in the dark, and taking nothing, but in the 
full blaze of day, to throw their nets, made strong and 
irresistible, and draw ' the net to the land full of great 
fishes.' And for all there were so many, yet the net 
should not be broken. They should no more, when asked 
if they had any meat, answer ' No,' but should have abun- 
dance. The Master should say unto them, ' Come and 
dine ;' and when strengthened for the work they would 
become shepherds of the great flock, and go forth able 
to obey the commandment, ' Feed My lambs,' and not 
only the tender, helpless young, but ' Feed My slieep,' the 
strong and mighty of the flock. 

"This is a great theme," said he; "We have almost 
the indefinite multiplication of fishes by other miracles. 
' Do ye not understand, neither remember the five loaves 
of the five thousand, and how many baskets ye took up ? 
neither the seven loaves of the four thousand, and how 
many baskets ye took up ?" This is designed to show 
how the bread of life, the inspiration of holy writ, the 
outpouring of the Holy Spirit, can be multiplied until it 
8 



122 THE TWO PARSONS. 

feeds the world. What mighty events flow from small 
causes, when touched by a ^naster hand ! There is no 
end to the multitudes that may be fed. If there were 
ten thousand denominations, a few loaves of this bread 
of life would feed and strengthen them to mighty works. 
There is comfort in the tliought that the gospel affords 
ample food for all, and that it may be multiplied to suit 
the number and the condition of all, without regard to 
denomination, age or sex, Jew or Gentile. 

" There is still another thought. Let down your nets, 
and drag for them out of the evil net, where they were 
snared in an evil time, and gi\'e them freedom of life and 
the joys of salvation. Aye, fish them from their igno- 
rance, from their bigotry, from their false gods. Fish 
them from their conceited wisdom; fish them from their 
vanity and their folly. ' Behold, I will send for many 
fishers, saith the Lord, and they shall fish them ; and 
after will I send for many hunters, and they shall hunt 
them from every mountain, and from every hill, and out 
of the holes of the rocks.' And as the Lord will fish up 
Israel from the land of the north and from all the lands 
whither He hath driven them, and will bring them again 
into their land, so shall the fishers sent by the Lord Jesus 
gather the multitudes from all the corners of the earth. 
Well might Peter say, ' I go a-fishing ;' and well might 
the other disciples say, ' And we. also go m ith thee.' It 
was a work worthy of the Lord's disciples. 

" Fishing for multitudes of fish implies that after they 
are caught provision must be made for preserving them 
for future use. And when you are fishing for multitudes 
of men, provision must be made for utilizing them for 
the Lord's service. They must be fed with the bread of 
life, and with the water ' that shall be in them a well of 
water springing up into everlasting life.' They must be 
served with the bread and the wine, the body and the 



PAKSON blair's seemon. 123 

blood of Christ ; for He saitli, ' He that eateth Mj flesh 
and drinketh my blood dwelleth in Me and I in him.' 
This is the way that men are to be preserved for eternity, 
Fish are to be salted, that they may be kept for a brief 
period, but this blood and wine preserveth for ever. But 
take heed that ye be not offended at this, saith the Lord 
Jesus. 'It is the Spirit tliat quickeneth, the flesh profit- 
eth nothing.' I am talking of my flesh and my blood in 
a spii'itual sense. The spirit and the life are the reality 
to which you must cling. You utilize men by sending 
them forth to form other swarms, and construct other 
hives, and gather honey from all herbs and flowers ; and 
when they are dead and gone, their good deeds live on, 
and the evil that they do is often the warning to be 
shunned ; and tlie thoughts that they uttered become the 
food for other generations ; and many of those they never 
littered are stored in books, to live for ever, and generate 
other thoughts better and more noble." 

He paused, and said, " Many more thoughts crowd up- 
on me ; but it is growing late. Our sun may set, but 
the Sun of righteousness will shine for ever. What in- 
spiration entered the mind of Addison when he wrote 
that glorious hymn beginning with these words : 

' The spacious firmament on high. 
With all the blue ethereal sky.' 

It opens to the soul the contemplation of all the heavenly 
host and their great Creator," 

He looked at the sun setting, and then repeated : 

"'Soon as the evening shades prevail. 
The moon takes up the wondrous tale. 
And nightly to the listening earth 
Repeats the story of her birth ; 



1 24 THE TWO PARSONS. 

While all the stars that round her burn, 
And all the planets in their turn, 
Confirm the tidings as thej roll, 
And spread the truth from pole to pole.' 

" How often have I heard Parson Buchanan repeating 
these words with the greatest gusto ! But I must be- 
gone." 

We left him gathering up his fish and tackle, well 
pleased with the results of the day's work. 



CHAPTER yill. 

DINNER WITH MR. MUNFORD. 

IF, gentle reader, you will accompany us in a pleasant 
re-union with our kind friends, who are old in years 
but playful as hoys, we will endeavor more fully to ex- 
hibit their dispositions and characters. We wish it to be 
distinctly understood in the outset, that ministers of the 
gospel in the times of which we are speaking were not so 
straitlaced in their associations and habits as many of 
them are at this day. But at the same time we aver that 
there were no characters, in or out of the church, more 
exemplary than they. 

No one was more reverential, more devout, more sin- 
cerely attached to the great work to which they had de- 
voted their lives. They were temperate and advocates 
of temperance in all tilings, but they did not run wild 
with total abstinence in drinks any more than in meats, 
Witli whatever class of the community they happened to 
associate, they set before them in their own lives ex- 
amples of virtue and purity, and they believed thut each 
and all could be influenced by them more effectually in 
this way than by solemn sighing or mournful ejaculations. 
They not only preached but acted moderation, toleration, 
simplicity and ease of manner, happy, social and genial 
intercourse, and they delighted in generous liospitality 
and true unostentatious charity. Their cheerfulness 
added zest to their presence, which attracted many to 
their liberal homes, and induced friends and acquaint- 
ances to invite them to participate in their innocent 



126 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

entertainments. While they freely conversed about the 
temporal concerns of their flocks, and the political affairs 
of the country, when suitable opportunity offered, they 
mingled pleasant unrestrained allusions to sacred sub- 
jects, and enforced all by argument and reason, without 
pretension to superiority of intellect or knowdedge. 

We think the contrary course, with a domineering dic- 
tatorial manner, has a repulsive tendency. It prevents 
ministers from knowing the i-eal feelings and opinions of 
their congregations, prevents the presentation of both 
sides of doubtful questions, disgusts the gay and thought- 
less, and makes men of real talents, and those who take 
the liberty of thinking for themselves and of judging the 
motives and actions of men, avoid their society. They 
are thus left not unfrequently without proper advisers 
and counsellors, possessing themselves every kind of 
knowledge except common sense. 

We return from this digression to Parsons Blair and 
Biichanan. They did not hesitate to eat and drink with 
their friends, though they might not be members of their 
churches. They acted upon the principle that "they 
that be whole need not a physician, but they that are 
sick." Like their Master, they were "not sent to call 
the righteous, but sinners, to repentance." 

They had both been invited to dine with their friend, 
William Munford. He had married Sally Kadford, the 
niece of the excellent wife of Parson Blair, and, there- 
fore, as well for his own sake as for hers, there was a 
cordiality inducing unrestrained innocent pleasantries be- 
tween them rarely excelled. This marriage made him a 
Winston among the Winstons, at least in their eyes, 
which they showed by their conduct and devotion. Mr. 
Munford was at that time a member of the Council of 
State, and had been elected by the General Assembly as 
a leading Democrat of the day. We mention this cir- 



DINNER WITH MR. MUNFORD. 127 

ciimstance to explain allusions in his letter of invitation, 
and to say the party reference was made simply to draw 
out Parson Blair, and afford him an opportunity to venti- 
late a little of his humour. The Parsons, though both 
were Federalists, as was the party name of that day, 
really took no part in politics other than to run riggs 
upon their intimate friends of opposite political opinion. 
The invitations, for the sake of pleasantry, were usually 
in rhyme, not pretending to the higher strains of poetry. 
They were written off-hand, and often without regard to 
measure or rule. We happen to have the note addressed 
to Parson Blair, and have reason to believe a duplicate 
was sent to Parson Buchanan, intended as a parody on 
poetic letters: , 

"William Munford hopes his reverence will favor him 

with his company to-day to dinner ; 
For we are told in the Scripture that a saint may some- 
times eat with a sinner ; 
He therefore presumes, that although you are a good Fed. ^ 
And he a poor Democrat, yet "nay" will not be said. 
If you come, he will treat you as well as he is able, 
With some tisli and some flesh and vegetable ; 
As for drink, he has no better than cogniac and whiskey. 
But both are strong enough to make a parson frisky. 
As to fine madeira, burgundy, champagne or claret, 
A Virginia councillor's salary is not able to bear it. 
However, to such as he can afford your welcome will be 

sincere, 
Which, for a man of your moderation, will be enough to 
bring you here. 



5? 



The invitation had the effect intended, and called forth 
the spicy reply about the repentance of political sinners: 



128 the two parsons, 

" Dear Sir : 

" I've received your poetic and kind invitation 
To dine, and accept it without hesitation. 
With your company cliarmed, it ne'er enters my head 
That you are a Demo., and I am a Fed. ; 
But when I think on't, with the hope I'm content, 
That political sinners may sometimes repent. 
The fare you have named is an excellent dish, 
And Democracy's self cannot taint a good tish; 
Your whiskey, kind sir, is an excellent liquor, 
And the same I believe that made Burns take a 'bicker.* 
Excuse these dull lines without measure or rule. 
For the muse is so coy she'll not come into school." 

Our readers have been able, from the perusal of a f o r 
mer chapter, to understand the allusion to the muses not 
coming into school. The truth is, the rhyming vein 
was so fully developed in him that it came to him 
naturally, whether in or out of school. He was ever 
ready for a pleasant rejoinder. 

The Parsons came to dinner according to invitation, 
and they walked together arm in arm. It so happened 
that Parson Blair permitted his little dog Towser to ac- 
company him ; and they had scarcely entered the room 
w^ien a beautiful family cat, a pet of Mr. Munford's, 
which was purring musically in a chair, pounced upon 
the terrier, and a furious fight ensued. It was with dif- 
ficulty that peace could be proclaimed by taking puss 
into another room. 

"I know," said Parson Blair, "That cat is a Demo- 
crat." 

" To be sure she is," said Mr. Munford, " and she had 
instinct enough to know that little Towser was a Fed- 
eralist. She couldn't stand that. If, as Plautus says, 



DINNER WITH MR. MUNFORD. 129 

Homo homini ignoto lupus est, is not a Fed. dog a wolf 
to a Dem. cat V 

" Ah ! yes," said Parson Buchanan, checking the po- 
litical reference, " and let us remember, ' In omnibus 
partihus, esse multos optimos et pessimos homines.'' " 

" And we may say with equal truth," retorted Parson 
Blair, " Parmi les animuux. II y a heaucoup de hon 
chiens et de chats he pins inalinsr And so they had a 
hearty laugh over that incident. 

A short time after they had been able ^^ componere 
lites " between the dog and the cat, a colored boy, who 
had been raised by the family, and had something of 
the gentlemanly deportment of servants of the ancient 
regime, came in with a waiter containing a pitcher of ex- 
cellent punch, as cool as a plentiful supply of ice could 
make it. His master immediately poured out for each of 
his guests and for himself a tumblerful. 

" Beverley," he said, " set the pitcher on the table, and 
we will discuss the punch calmly." As the boy did so, 
he made a respectful bow to each of our Parsons, which 
attracted their attention. 

" Is this Evelyn's son ?" said Parson Blair, addressing 
Beverley and extending his hand — and Parson Buchanan 
did the same — " Old Fanny's grandson ?" 

" The same," said Mr. Munford. 

" She is the greatest aristocrat," said Parson Blair, 
" that I ever saw. It is a treat to hear her describing the 
old times — ' ole miss and ole master.' I heard her telling 
my wife a few days ago how ' ole miss,' in her rich brocade, 
that stood up in the floor without any support, used to 
dance the minuet with ' ole master,' in his powdered hair 
and shorts, when ' they was gals and boys together.' And 
she said, ' Why, mistiss, there aint nothing like it in these 
times.' " 

" I like to hear these old people," said Parson Buch- 



130 THE TWO PARSONS. 

anan ; " but they are passing away. The same levelling 
spirit that puts down the old time gentleman will wipe 
out the old time negro too." 

"Brother Buchanan," said Parson Blair, "you are 
preaching over your punch, and you are punching cousin 
Munford's Democracy." And then they would nudge 
each other, like a parcel of mischievous boys; and we 
think we hear Parson Blair saying, after his inimitable 
manner, " Well, well ! dear, dear ! what a fellow you are.' 

" That is a remarkable boy," said Mr. Munford. " My 
sisters, Mrs. Kennon and Mrs. Byrd, have, at odd times, 
taught his mother to read and write, and she has taught 
him, and with no other assistance; he is not content now 
unless he is reading Shakespeare or Homer, and he un- 
derstaiids what he reads. I was engaged in my transla- 
tion of the Iliad a few days ago, and left it a ^short time ; 
afterwards, I overheard him repeating a line or two he 
had thns accidentially seen, and he quoted it with ap- 
proved emphasis : 

' jS^o man can send me hence 
To Pluto's hall before the appointed time ; 
And surely none of all the human race, 
Base or e'en brave, has ever shunn'd his fate.' 

It has changed my mind, at least about the mulatto ; the 
infusion of white blood seems to brighten the intellects. 
On another occasion I overheard him readins: aloud from 
the scene between Hector and Andromache, when the 
great hero played with his boy, Astyanax, before he went 
to battle, and he greatly enjoyed the beauties of the scene. 
Give them the same education, and after a generation or 
two, with the civilization they obtain from association 
with their masters, they will astonish those who maintain 
that their minds cannot be developed." 



DINNER WITH MR. MUNFORD. 131 

Parson Buchanan said he had seen many strikhig ilhis- 
trations of this truth. 

Parson Blair said ho had noticed a slight propensity 
that these descendants of Cush had for pilfering. 

"Yes," said Mr. Munford, "but they don't call it 
stealing ; they call it ' taking,' particularly when it is 
taken from their masters. As a corroboration of what 
you say, however, Mr. Blair, my wife, having heard 
Beverley spouting Shakespeare, went to her store-room 
to open a jar of brandy peaches, and had just untied the 
string when she was suddenly called away. As she re- 
tired, Beverley entered, and linding the door ajar, thought 
to regale himself with one of the largest and finest of the 
white heath peaches ; but, hearing his mistress returning, 
and having no place so handy, he crammed a peach into 
his mouth, and slipped out of the door, not, however, 
without exposing at least the shadow of his person. The 
ladies, like game keepers, being death upon those who poach 
on their preserves, my wife stopped him in mid career, and 
asked him what he w^as doing in the closet. 

" It was as much as he could do to cram the peach in his 
mouth ; there was no possibility of swallow^ing it, and the 
inability to make a reply required no explanation, so he 
simply grinned a ghastly smile. 

" ' I desire to hear you repeat those lines of Shakespeare I 
heard you spouting a little while ago, ' He who steals my 
purse steals trash,' but he who steals my peaches ought 
to be- — how is it? 

"He turned on his heel and ran out of the room; but 
the scene was so ludicrous my wife contented herself 
with tying up the jar. 

" In a short time, however, having disposed of the peach, 
he returned, and very respectfully said, 'Mistiss, I ask 
your pardon, ma'am. I know if I had asked for a 
peach you would have given me one, and I am sorry 



132 THE TWO PARSONS. 

• 

for what I did.' And that was the end of tliat little 
incident." 

Parson Blair said, " I am sorry you told me that story 
before dinner, for if cousin Sally should happen to have 
peaches, I shall see in my mind's eye that boy spouting 
Shakespeare, and shall not be able to contain myself. I 
see his jaws protruding and his eyes nearly popped out of 
his head now." 

Dinner was then annoimced, and they passed into the 
adjoining room and regaled themselves with the fare, 
nothing having l)een omitted promised by the muses, but 
many et cmteras added. Peaches were not mentioned, but 
we noticed Parson Blair cut his eye at Beverley, and 
there was a playful smile in the corner of his mouth. 

They repaired to the parlor for a sociable chat. As 
soon as they entered, little Towser came up, rubbed him- 
self against their legs, and would have wagged his tail 
from affection, if it had not been cut off ; but that being 
impossible, laid himself quietly down on the rug. Pussy 
looked in at the door, raised her back to its full height, 
every hair on end, lashed her tail in anger, spit at him, 
and went off in a fury. 

Looking first at the dog and then at the cat. Parson 
Buchanan said, and there was a perceptible playfulness 
in his manner, " I have been conning the matter over in 
my mind, and should like to know two things, — first, 
why they always cut off the ears and tails of terriers '. and 
next, why a dog when pleased shakes his tail, while a cat 
when angry shakes hers V 

Seeing that sport was intended, Parson Blair went into 
it con arnore. " Perhaps," said he, " it may have been to 
prevent them from fatiguing themselves by running round 
and round after their own tails, and biting off their own 
«ars, when they snap at the flies that light upon them in 
July." 



DINNER WITH MR, MUNFORD. 133 

"Very unsatisfactory," said Parson Buchanan, with 
great composure, "it must have been, as they are rat 
catchers, to prevent the rats from biting their ears and 
tails." 

"And of course," said Mr. Munford, "the rats can't 
bite their legs and heads and bodies, after the ears and 
tails are cut," 

'"'■Quod erat demonstrandum^'' said Parson Buchanan, 

" But why does the dog when pleased wag his tail, and 
the cat when angry wag hers?" 

Parson Buclianan looked at Mr. Munford as if he 
thought this was a poser to his reverence. 

"That depends, in the case of the dog," says Parson 
Blair, " upon the fact whether his tail has been cut off or 
not ; for if he has no tail of course he cannot wag it, and 
the first problem presupposes that terriers have neither tails 
nor ears. But if this dithculty is removed, then I can imagine 
that a pedantic physician, or surgeon, or anatomist would 
explain it very lucidly thus: 'When the dog is much 
pleased, the spinal cord, which is a cylindriform column 
of nerve substance, connected with the brain through the 
medium of the medulla oblongata, is susceptible to the 
emotion ; and when that emotion is communicated to the 
dog's brain, through his sense of sight and smell, the 
medulla oblongata, which terminates about the first or 
second lumbar vertebra, in a slender filament of gray or 
vascular substance, the filum terminale which lies in the 
midst of the roots of many nerves, forming the cauda 
equina, become affected, and then an uninterruupted con- 
tinuity of nerve fibres, essential to the condition of im- 
pressions, are transmitted through the nerve vesicles of 
the spinal cord to the filaments and cord of the tail, and 
the reflex action of the brain produces its vibratory mo- 
tion, which continues like a pendulum, until tl:e pleasur- 
able sensation ceases," 



134 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Parson Bncdianan nudged Mr. Munford, and said, " Hear 
him ! " 

" But in the case of the cat," said Parson Blair, 
witliout noticing the interruption, "inasmuch as the 
spinal cord is capable of conducting impressions arising 
from nervous excitement, and the cat is supposed to be 
irate, the nerve corpuscles and filaments connecting them, 
receive the irate impressions, and all impressions made 
upon the brain are bj reflex action communicated to the 
peripheral extremities, and the stimulus of the irascible 
will excites the action of the muscles, supplied from it 
with motor nerves ; and the caudal cord is lashed to and 
fro as long as the anger remains." 

" And this fascinating and extremely lucid reasoning," 
Baid Parson Buchanan, " is perfectly satisfactory." 

" And this convincing and powerful argument," said 
Mr. Munford, " for want of refutation, is irresistible. 
We see now why the equine species switch their tails 
when the flies bite ; why the bovine races curl their tails 
when they are on a rampage ; why the pig twists his 
tight when he is eagerly trotting along the highway look- 
ing for corn ; and why the peacock opens his like a fan 
when strutting in front of his dames. The medulla ob- 
longata is softened in each case, and the marrow of the 
back-bone becomes the thermometer which raises or de- 
j)resses the tails of all animals under all circumstances." 

Parson Buchanan threw himself back in the large arm 
diair, and said, " I'll take care how I propound a philo- 
sophical question hereafter. Certainly not in this learned 
presence." 

" Naturalists contend," added Parson Blair, " that ani- 
mals have no reasoning powers, but are prompted in their 
actions entirely by instinct, and do not reason, which, in 
many animals, I think is a great mistake. I have seen 
them exert their reasoning faculties unmistakably. When 



DINNER WITH MR. MUNFORD, 135 

I am about to leave home, to prevent Milo following me, 
I have turned him back and shut the front gate, and there 
he stands perfectly passive, yet saying to himself, ' You 
think you have stopped me up, do you ? I know you are 
watching me, Init as soon as you get out of sight, I shall 
find the way out easy enough.' And no sooner do I tui'n 
the corner than he whips around to the back gate, and is 
ahead of me more than a half -square in a giffy ; and when 
he sees I do not order him back, comes up to me wagging 
his peripheral extremity ; and then, playing around, he 
says, as plainly as I could say, ' I got the better of yon 
that time, old fellow.' " 

And then they laughed and playfully recounted the won- 
dei'ful actions and curious tricks of all sorts of animals. 

" I have seen it in dogs and horses over and over again." 
continued Parson Blair. " A short time ago two or three 
of my neighbors' sons, not accustomed to shooting on the 
wing, begged me to loan them Milo. In great glee, away 
they went, dog and boys together — Milo, as soon as he 
saw the guns, frantically joyous. He very quickly found 
a covey of birds, and bang, bang went the guns, and away 
flew the partridges — not a feather touched. Milo looked 
blank, and listened — no fluttering could be heard. He 
remained still until they reloaded, and said to himself, 
'^ This is an accident ;' then circled around, and soon found 
a single bird, which had been scattered from the flock. 
He has a fine nose ; never flushes — is dead staunch at a 
stand. All came np, and they had a fair shot. Bang, 
bang again, and the same result. Upon which, Milo said 
to himself, (I know he said it,) ' It is wasting time to hunt 
with you.' And without more ado he trotted deliber- 
ately home, and all the whistling, calling, and chasing 
in the world had no effect to divert him from his purpose. 
' That's not the way my master shoots. I shall have no 



136 THE TWO PARSONS. 

full with you/ I know he thought it, and the boys con- 
curred with him in that opinion." 

And here Mr. Munford said, " I have driven a steer 
out of my lawn, when in the country, and chased him in 
a rage to punish him for having destroyed my shrubbery. 
But he knows he can outrun me, and he runs just fast 
enough to keep out of the reach of my stick. As I in- 
crease my speed, he doubly increases his, curling his tail, 
or, as Mr. Blair would say, his cauda bovina; he makes 
directly for the water, and runs in up to his neck, where 
he knows I cannot follow, and then waits, as if perfectly 
unconcerned, until I am compelled to give it up in dis- 
gust. This is not only an exertion of reason, but it is 
cunning and deception and amusement, and a disposition 
to annoy, as well as a determination to obtain a choice 
bite which he relishes. ' Look at that old booby,' he says 
to himself, ' he is sitting on that stump pretending he will 
sit me out, and thinks I will go away. I am keeping off 
the flies, and it is very pleasant in the water this hot day. 
I know he is too busy to sit there. I am amused at his 
impotent rage. He is getting fidgety already.' As soon 
as my back is turned, he is industriously cropping the 
grass and shrubbery again. And you tell me this is no- 
thing but instinct !" 

" But there is this diiferenee," said Parson Blair, " be- 
tween human beings and animals, you cairt make a bar- 
gain with an animal. You may train them to do certain 
things to a certain extent, but their natures will tell 
against the training. Solomon has said, however, ' Train 
up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old 
he will not depart from it.' Brother Buchanan, this is a 
o;ood theme for a sermon." 

And the good man, who had been fondling Mr. Mun- 
ford's little boy, placed his hand upon his head, and in 
his mellow tones, such as he used in the pulpit, said^ 



DINNER WITH MR. MUNFORD. 137 

" You may enforce your text, brother, by that otlier not 
less forcible one addressed to the young, ' Remember thy 
Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come 
not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have 
no pleasure in them.' This is in the last chapter of Ec- 
clesiastes, and the preacher sums it all up with an admo- 
nition — Tear God, and keep His commandments, for this 
is the whole duty of man.' " 

We venture to say, though the remark was not address- 
ed to him, and no other application was made of it further 
than by placing his hand upon, the lad's head, that these 
w^ords sank deep into his heart, and time has not oblite- 
rated them from his mind to this day. 



CHAPTER IX. 

MK. KUTHERFOOED'S CONNECTION WITH OUR PARSONS.— 
THE ORATORY OF SAMUEL D. DENOON. 

WE have said, in a previous chapter, that the Win- 
stons were so intimately connected, both by af- 
fection and business, that it was absohitely necessary to 
know them thoroughly to understand the motives by 
which they were actuated. Their business transactions, 
though apparently without the least connection, were yet 
of the greatest importance to the interests of them all. 
Though Parson Buchanan was in no way related to them, 
yet the intimacy betw^een himself and Parson Blair threw 
him frequently into the society of Parson Blair's bro- 
thers-in-law, and made him acquainted with their views, 
their hopes, and their pleasures. 

We have said that Mr. Thoiuas Rutherfoord married 
Miss Sarah Winston, Parson Blair's wife's sister, and 
that Mr. Radford had married Miss Rebecca Winston, 
another of the sisters. We shall now see how these cir- 
cumstances influenced the affairs of both the Parsons. 

In the summer of 1793, Mr. Rutherfoord, for the 
benefit of his wife's health, accompanied by some friends, 
paid a visit to the Green Springs, in the county of 
Louisa, at that time the resort of many of the best fami- 
lies from the city of Richmond, seeking either health or 
pleasure. Among the rest were old Col. Ilarvie, the 
father of Gen. Jacqueline B. Ilarvie; Mr. Archibald 
Bryce, of Goochland; and the two brothers Alexander 



MR. RUTHERFOORD's CONNECTION WITH OUR PARSONS. 139 

and John Buchanan. Mr. James Buchanan, the eldest 
of the brothers, died but a short time before, leaving the 
bulk of his property to his brother John. 

In their conversations they naturally alluded to the 
pleasant recreation thej^ were then enjoying. They felt 
that relaxation from business, freedom from the cares of 
life, a change of air, and new scenes and company pro- 
duced a buoyancy of spirit which contributed more to 
health than the use of the waters. It was a delight to 
be freed from the dust and heat of the city. Perhaps to 
a confirmed invalid who required renovation, who was 
radically out of order, some of our celebrated mineral 
waters would act like a charm ; but in general it was the 
jolting over rough roads, the change of diet, and the new 
atmosphere that improved the health and gave vigor to 
the mind. 

Mr. Rutherfoord said he had frequently noticed that a 
change from one house to another, and sometimes, if only 
for a mile or two, from the town to the country, was of 
incalculable advantage to children. He had experienced 
great uneasiness from the extreme illness of several of 
his children, who revived in an hour after a change of 
place. Their little lungs seemed to expand with the 
oxygen inhaled, their appetites were restored, and from 
mere skeletons they would become ruddy and plump in a 
very short time. He was anxious, he said, to purchase 
some place near the city, to which he could retire at his 
pleasure, without being forced to leave his business. 
"Kow," said he, addressing himself to Parson Buchanan, 
"you have just such a farm as I want, and I should be 
much pleased to buy it, if you could be induced to sell. 
There is a delightful spring upon it, such as is rarely met 
with in the neighborhood of a city, bold, limpid, and as 
cool as ice; a good site for a house, with shady trees in 
abundance, fruit trees of many varieties, and nothing in 



140 THE TWO PARSONS. 

the world to make it unhealthy." "You are so different 
from other purchasers," said the Parson, "praising in- 
stead of depreciating what you wish to purchase, that I 
am almost tempted to oblige you; but nobody can pur- 
chase that piece of land. I acquired it as a gift from my 
lamented brother James, and I now put upon it the pre- 
tixmi affection is, which renders it unsalable during my 
life." On which his brother Alexander observed : " Well, 
Mr. Rutherfoord, you can buy a hundred acres from me 
which will suit you better, as it is nearer town, and I 
shall sell it for what it is worth, without any pretixiin 
affectionis. Tliere is no house, except an overseer's 
house; no fine spring, nor shade, nor fruit trees; but the 
price will be lower on that account, and it will bring, 
more in future, When the city advances westward, as it 
certainly will." 

On further inquiry, Mr. Rutherfoord ascertained from 
Mr. Buchanan that it was an hundred acre lot, running 
into the town, and bounded by the Westham road; that 
he w^ould take eight hundred pounds for it, payable in 
two years without interest, and if desired he would wait 
three years longer on interest being added. 

Subsequently, after examination, when Mr. Kuther- 
foord was ready to make the purchase on the terms men- 
tioned, Mr. Buchanan, at the instance of our estimable 
Parson, with great liberality, agreed to add to the hun- 
dred acre lot certain other lots adjoining it which he 
owned, without additional price, and the purchase was 
consummated. 

Col. Harvie afterwards purchased a considerable farm 
adjoining this tract, and running down to James River, 
embracing the land now known as Hollywood Cemetery, 
in which in by-gone days the old family burying ground 
was located, and which was retained for that purpose, 
and remains undisturbed to this day. Mr. Ruth erf oord 



MR. RUTHERFOORd's CONNECTION WITH OUR PARSONS. 141 

and Col. Harvie and their families became warm and in- 
timate friends. 

Very soon after this purchase, Mr. Rutherfoord built 
the house he so long occupied on west Franklin street; 
and in 1796 took possession of his new residence, and 
lived there in comfort aud elegance. Though we do not 
always see how we are benefited at the time, and often 
repine over our sufferings, yet it not unfrequently hap- 
pens that in after life, in looking back on our career, we 
not onl}'' discover the personal advantages we derived, but 
the benefits resulting to our friends, or to those who are 
near and dear to us. 

We have been surprised at the extent to which mere 
etiquette, or a punctilious regard for the niceties of pro- 
fessional intercourse is carried, particularly bj' the medical 
faculty. It sometimes induces the best of them to dis- 
regard the courtesies and even the charities of life. We 
record an incident of this kind for the benefit of those 
who do not view such circumstances in the light in which 
we regard them. 

On the night of the 27th of December, just after Christ- 
mas, when we are more disposed to be merry and to pass 
off a cold evening in a comfortable way with a few friends, 
Mr. Rutherfoord was invited by Mr. Abram Venable to 
come down to Mrs. Randolph's boarding house to play a 
quiet game of whist, and partake of a bowl of egg-nog, 
such as Mrs. David Meade Randolph, in her palmiest days, 
could brew. They were to have a quartette of old cronies, 
a clean hearth, a blazing fire, and the very rigor of tlie 
game. 

Mr. Rutherfoord was fond of such a game in those 
days, and about six o'clock in the evening was on his way 
to fulfil his engagement. The night was cloudy, very 
dark, exceedingly cold, and portending snow. He was 
wrapped in an overcoat, folded over his arms, and in con- 



142 THE TWO PARSONS. 

sequence of the cold hurrying on rapidly. Through the 
square — the greater portion of which is now owned by 
the descendants of that honorable and valued citizen, Wm. 
C. Allen, — there ran a path diagonally across from Frank- 
lin to Main street, from which, on the day before, had 
been taken a load of gravel, leaving a fall of about two 
feet. Heedless or ignorant of this obstruction, he hurried 
along without perceiving the declivity, and slipping, lighted 
on a rolling stone, which caused him to fall. The sudden- 
ness of the jolt, combined with the hardness of the frost, 
caused the fracture of both bones of his right leg;. Un- 
conscious of the injury he had received, he attempted to 
rise, but found he could not place his foot to the ground, 
and there being no one near, was compelled to cry out for 
help. An old negro man first came to his assistance, who, 
supposing he had found a drunken man, made light of his 
condition; l)ut after being told the truth of the case, of- 
fered to go to the nearest house to procure additional 
aid. While he was gone, a gentleman on horse-back, 
who had also heard his outcry, rode up and en(]uired, 
" Who are 3"0u 'i " Mr. Rutherfoord recognizing the 
voice, replied, " Dr. Leiper, I must ask your assistance. I 
have broken my leg.'' He immediately dismounted, and 
recognizing his friend, said he would give him all the aid 
in his pow.er. 

By this time the negro, with several gentlemen from 
the house to wdiich he had gone, came to see what was 
the matter. With great care and attention they carried 
him to the house of Mr. Carter, at which tlie gentlemen 
had been assembled for the purpose of spending a sociable 
evening. Mr. liutherfoord, anxious to be at home as 
soon as possible, and to save troul:)le to his new acquaint- 
ances, enquired of Dr. Leiper if he eoidd not set his 
broken limb, and whether he might not be carried home 
before the operation was performed. The doctor said it 



MR. RUTHERFOOEd's CONNECTION WITH OUR PARSONS. 143 

would be best; that he was going to Mrs. Singleton's, at 
the corner of Fifth and Main streets, only one square off, 
where he would be detained but a few minutes, and would 
be at Mr. Ilutherfoord"'s as soon as they could take him 
there. Accordingly, preparations were rapidly made ; 
the gentlemen soon came with a table covered with 
blankets which were wrapped entirely around hijn, and 
all of them assisted in carrying him home, a distance of 
about a half mile. 

They waited a considerable time after their arrival for 
Dr. Leiper's return, the fractured limb causing intense 
suffering. These gentlemen then united in advising that 
another surgeon should be called in. Out of sheer respect 
for Dr. Leiper, Mr. Rutherfoord again waited ; but at 
last, the pain becoming excessive, he sent for Dr. Cringan, 
who, on his arrival, having heard that Dr. Leiper had 
been present and promised to return, expressed an unwill- 
ingness to perform the operation on account of profes- 
sional eti(|uette. He said, however, he would make all 
necessary preparations, to avoid loss of time after the 
doctor's arrival. 

Everything being in readiness, the gentlemen insisted 
that common humanity required that no longer delay 
should be made. Thus repeatedly urged. Dr. Cringan 
proceeded to perform the operation, which waa attended 
with much troul>le, and great pain to the sufferer. 

What a srlorious advantage the use of ether and of 
chloroform has been in these days ! The idea that the 
nerves of sensation should be held in abeyance while the 
nerves of motion continue to act, is indeed wonderful. 
That the tongue should move and utter sensible sentences, 
and yet that the mind should be unconscious of its utter- 
ances, and the body deprived of its feeling, is one of those 
mysterious things in man's organism that can scarcely bo 
realized. That the whole system should be relaxed, every 



144 THE TWO PARSONS. 

muscle unstrung, consciousness gone, and yet the heart 
perform its functions, and the circulation be can-ied on, 
and the lungs play as usual, is wonderful. That the 
senses should be aliv^e, and yet that the person under the 
influence of these powerful agents cannot see, hear, smell, 
taste, or feel ; that the most painful surgical operations 
may be performed, bandages placed around the parts, re- 
quiring the body to be moved and turned, without per- 
sonal knowledge, and that the agents should be harmless 
after their effects have passed away, shows the march of 
sciencic, and the blessing of heaven in bestowing such 
gifts to man. The heart is impelled to adoration and 
praise. 

The operation of setting Mr. Rutherfoord's leg, how- 
ever, had been performed without these aids, and the gen- 
tlemen who assisted in carrying him home contributed, 
by all the means in their power, to lessen his pain, and 
to give comfort to himself and to his anxious wife. The 
doctor had been careful, attentive, kind, and to all ap- 
pearances the operation had been skilfully performed, 
and the patient was comparatively comfortable. 

When the friends who had kindly acted the part of 
neighbor to him whom they had found on the wayside in 
suffering and pain were in the act of departing. Dr. 
Leiper arrived. Dr. Cringan explained to him the cir- 
cumstances under which he had acted, invited him to ex- 
amine and see whether the operation had been performed 
to his satisfaction, stating that he was acting for him, 
and had delayed until he had supposed some pressing 
case had prevented his return, and even then he had not 
acted until urged by the remonstrances of the gentlemen 
present. Without apology or explanation he declined 
making any examination into the case. Mr. Kutherfoord 
invited him to call and see him the next day, to which he 
replied, he would come and see him as a friend, but never 



MR. KUTHERFOORd's CONNECTION WITH OUR PARSONS. 145 

again as a physician. He was as good as his word, for 
he never afterwards visited the family as a physician. 

Now the question arises, must a man, when he re- 
quires the aid of a physician or surgeon, because he 
cannot get that aid in a reasonable time, abstain from 
sending for another? He may risk his own life, if he 
pleases ; but has he a right to risk the life of his wife or 
his child, and suffer the anxiety of a husband or father, 
for another's whim or pleasure, or even necessary deten- 
tion, no matter how good an excuse he may have ? We 
say that common sense and feeling answer in the nega- 
tive. If the physician or surgeon come in good faith, in 
a reasonable time, he ought to be compensated ; but he 
has no riglit to exclusive preference. There is another 
question: Ought the physician last sent for to wait at all 
if the patient require immediate assistance? We have 
no hesitation in answering in the negative. There should 
be no etiquette in the matter. The patient is responsible 
for the action, and not the physician. 

We return to our friend Mr. Rutherfoord. A short 
time before the accident occurred, Mr, Alexander Buch- 
anan and his brother had become frequent visitors at Mr. 
Rutherfoord's, and an intimacy sprang up between the 
Parson and himself, which continued with increasing af- 
fection as time sped on. 

Mr. Alexander Buchanan still owned a square of land 
in the city, below Mr. Rutherfoord's, on the north side 
of Franklin street, lying between Franklin and Grace 
streets, containing two acres, being the square on which 
Linden Row now stands; and in a casual conversation he 
mentioned that he desired to sell it. It was natural that 
Mr. Rutherfoord should desire to induce his friends to 
settle in his neighborhood and to build good liouses. It 
would gratify his wife to have her sister only a few doors 
off, and the family circle would be cemented by the plea- 



146 THE TWO PARSONS. 

sant intercourse of mutual friends. Mr. Rutherfoord, 
therefore, mentioned these facts to his brother-in-law, 
Mr. Radford, and advised him to buy it, which he ac- 
cordingly did, for the sum of eiglit hundred dollars, being 
at the rate of two hundred dollars a half-acre, in one of 
the most elevated and beautiful parts of the city. Mr. 
Kutherfoord at the time of the purchase was confined to 
the house, and continued for a great portion of six 
months on his crutches, without the ability to attend to 
business. 

In the mean time, the Legislature of the State passed 
an Act for the establisliment of a Penitentiary, and au- 
thorized the executive to procure a suitable site for its 
location. It must be observed, that at that time there 
were not more than three or four houses from Fifth 
street to Mr. Rutherfoord's own dwelling, and that this 
portion of the city was looked upon as being in the 
country, the elite of the population, as a general thing, 
living below Ninth, and cliiefiy on Main street. Mr. 
Radford, therefore, without considering, or consulting 
Mr. Rutherfoord, or mentioning his intentions to any of 
his friends, offered the square he had just purchased to 
the Governor, James Wood, as a suitable site for the 
Penitentiary, and the proposition was readily accepted. 

After the bargain was consummated, Mr. Radford 
communicated tlie fact to Mr. Rutherfoord, affording to 
him and his family the prospect of a Penitentiary, in 
which the worst criminals in the land were to be incar- 
cerated, and by the doors of which tliey w^ould have to 
pass the residue of their lives in going to and returning 
from business, or on jaunts of pleasure, thus deterring 
fi'iends from visiting them, preventing all who might de- 
sire to build and improve that part of the town from 
investing in the lots, and destroying the value of the 
property he owned in that vicinity. Of course this was 



MR. RUTHERFOORD's CONNECTION WITH OUR PARSONS. 147 

calculated to disturb and distress any man, particularly 
one who had become nervous by pain and the worries of 
inability to attend to his own affairs, and more especially 
when he had hoped to have a friend and companion as 
his neighbor. 

As soon as Mr. Radford perceived that the wliole 
family connection was annoyed and disconcerted Dy his 
sale, and how mortified Mr. Rutherfoord was, he apolo- 
gized in the most sincere manner; said it never occurred 
to him that it would give his friends the least concern, 
that he thought the State would erect an ornamental 
building which would improve that part of the city, and 
he should obtain individually a handsome profit on his 
recent purchase. Since, however, it was so thoroughly 
distasteful to those he wished to please, he promised if 
possible to induce the executive to cancel the contract. 
Upon applying to Governor Wood and stating the cir- 
cumstances as they really existed, the governor said he 
was willing to abrogate the contract, provided another 
site should be furnished in lieu of the one purchased 
which he might consider equally eligible. 

Mr. Rutherfoord agreed to take the square off Mr- 
Radford's hands at the price he had obtained from the 
State; and offered, in lieu of the two acres purchased by 
the State, the present site of the penitentiary, with up- 
wards of twelve acres of land. The State paid two hun- 
dred dollars difference on account of some valuble timber 
then on the new site. Thus the contract was annulled 
satisfactorily to all parties. 

We have stated all these facts to show the character of 
the man who was so long honored and beloved by many 
of the best and most talented citizens of Richmond, and 
for the further purpose of showing how it affected and 
benefited Parson Blair. 

After the conveyances had been made, so sensitive was 



148 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

Mr. Kiitherfoord, that he determined it never should be 
said that he had gotten possession of this square from 
any sellish or improper motive. The chief reason as- 
signed by himself was, that he had felt under many ob- 
ligations to his friend, Mr. Blair, for the kindness and 
consolation afforded him during his severe sufferings; and 
having wished for an opportunity of making him a suit- 
able testimonial, he divided the square into four half-acre 
lots, and gave one to each of Mr. Blair's children, — John 
G., Sanuiel Jordan, James and Betsy, — in fee simple. 
We will state in passing, that at a subsequent day, these 
lots were sold for the benefit of these children, at the 
price of about ten thousand dollars each, making forty 
thousand dollars, given from motives like these. He 
acted upon the principle, "Let not thy left hand know 
what thy right hand doeth." Few persons ever knew of 
these circumstances. 

On the property purchased from Mr. Buchanan, there 
stood within our recollection a wooden building, in very 
good order, which had been used for his overseer and 
family. After it became the property of Mr. Ruther- 
foord, he heard of a verj^ respectable lady, — a widow who 
had seen better days, — a Mrs. Denoon, whose husband 
had been the editor, or at any rate was connected with 
the editorial department of the newspaper called the 
Aurora., in Philadelphia; and who having died, had bft 
his widow with several children, uneducated and nearly 
in a destitute condition. Mr. Kutherfoord offered her 
this house as a residence, free of rent, and she resided 
there for many years, supporting herself almost entirely 
by her needle, and such assistance as the family of Mr. 
Rutherfoord and other kind neighbors freely and con- 
stantly afforded. Her two sons had received little or no 
■education, but being industrious boys, had been placed as 
apprentices, the one under McNaught, a first-rate gun- 



THE ORATORY OF SAMUEL D. DENOON. 149 

smith, and the other became a brass and iron founder, — 
manufacturing grates, fenders, fire-irons and ahnost all 
the essentials in his line for kitchen furniture. They 
were both doing well, when, without fault, the oldest was 
killed by a gun-shot by McNaught, with whom he was 
apprenticed. 

We only allude to this without giving particulars, our 
object being to detail an occurrence to the honor of the 
other, the younger son, Samuel D. Denoon. Having at- 
tended strictly to his business and prospering in the world, 
he began to increase his fortune, and became, for a long 
time, the stay and prop of his mother in her old age. He 
was really an extraordinary man, having one of the 
strongest minds and possessing the most original thoughts 
and the most original manner of expressing them that 
ever came under our observation. 

On one Christmas Eve, we were spending the evening 
with Mr. Rutherf oord and his family, when all were happy, 
having a good time generally. The dooi- bell rang, and a 
servant was ushered into Mr. Rutherfoord's presence^ 
bearing one of the handsomest and most ornamental brass 
fenders we ever saw, a set of brass mounted fire-irons to 
match, a brass footman, coal-scuttle and blower, all made 
by Mr. Denoon's own hands, and of exquisite workman- 
ship. They were accompanied with the following note : 

" Christmas Eve. 
" Thomas Kutherfoord, Esq. : 

^'Dear Sir. — I send you a small Christmas present as a 
specimen of my workmanship ; not so much for the work- 
manship either, as from a feeling of gratitude for your 
kindness to my mother and her children, when she had 
few friends, who came like angel visits from the far off 
firmament. She still remembers you. She has impressed 



150 THE TWO PARSONS. 

it upon me not to forget you. Accept these as a poor 
return from your friend, 

" Samuel D. Denoon." 

We saw the big tears roll down the cheeks of the 
worthy man when he read the note, and he told the ser- 
vant to say to his master, he would write him an accept- 
ance in the morning. 

We have gone out of our way to mention these little 
circumstances, because we consider the gift and the letter 
a feather in any man's cap, making such a return, accom- 
panied by kind and natural words, thirty odd years after, 
for benefits received by his mother and family, for which 
no return was ever expected. 

He possessed a kind heart ; was fearless and indepen- 
dent ; and though he had not words to express his strong 
feelings, his principles w^ere of the highest ordei". He 
was a Democrat to the core, and often spoke to thousands 
in times of high political excitement, often to their edifi- 
cation, often to their infinite amusement. When he first 
began to speak, he was the laughing-stock of the crowd, 
but as he became more familiar with language, and 
listened to the oratory of others, he improved daily ; and 
while at first he was called " Orator Denoon " out of de- 
rision, at last his oratory was invoked to aid the cause. He 
would be listened to with astonishment for his bold 
thoughts, his striking and sometimes ludicrous figures 
and fancies. He did not think as other men thought ; 
his conclusions did not flow from his premises ; but there 
was a mixture of good sense and an indescribable flow 
of incongruous words. The association of ideas in his 
mind was wholly unlike that of any other mortal, and 
hence his speeches defied the skill of all the reportorial 
fraternity. 

We will give a few choice extracts w^hich we remem- 



THK OKATOEY OF SAMUEL D. DENOOJST. 151 

ber. He had been appointed by the then governor one 
of the directors of the penitentiary, on account of his pe- 
cuHar fitness as an artisan to estimate the value of the fab- 
rics that were manufactured by the convicts ; and an ex- 
cellent director he made. At the expiration of the gub- 
ernatorial term, the succeeding governor did not renew 
the appointment, but gave the office to another. The 
consequence was that the governor was handled with 
gloves oif by Denoon on all suitable occasions. 

A short time afterw^ards, in a conversation with the 
governor, he asked us if we were aware of the fact that 
Denoon had left the Democratic party and turned Whig. 
We at once declared such an act an impossibility. N^o 
money could buy, and no temptation induce such action 
on his part. We stated to the governor that, in conse- 
quence of Denoon's removal from office, we knew he had 
denounced him, and that was the extent of his tergiver- 
sation. The governor, liowever, maintained the accuracy 
of his information. On tlie next day we happened to 
pass his foundry, and Denoon was standing at the door. 
We stopped, and, slapping him on the shoulder in a 
familiar way, said, "Sam, we have been told by a gentle- 
man high in authority, who ought to know, that you 
have turned Whig." 

He turned square to face us; then slowly placing his 
right hand inider the hollow of his left arm, he brought 
his left arm underneath the right, and placed his right 
hand over the left arm, thus majestically enfolding his 
person ; then straightened himself to his full height, and 
in a tone of solemn import, betokening deep feeling, 
broke forth slowly : 

"Sir, my father edited the Aurora, in Philadelphia, 
in high party times, and put forth pure Democratic prin- 
ciples; my mother was brought up at the feet of Game- 
aly-al. The wind bloweth whither it listeth, and whistleth 



152 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

through the tops of the trees ; but when my body is laid 
low under the clod of the vale it will utterly refuse to 
manure Whig ground." 

After that we said : " We will take our oath that your 
mind never conceived such a thought." His defence was 
perfect, and could not be excelled. 

On another occasion, he was speaking to the Demo- 
cratic Association in Richmond, when Mr. Thomas Kit- 
chie, who was the very life and soul of the association, 
and who generally opened the ball at their meetings, said 
some people pretended to believe that Henry Clay would 
be elected President of the United States, and he called 
upon his friend Mr. Denoon to say what was his opinion 
on the subject. 

Mr. Denoon immediately responded. He said he had 
been in constant correspondence with his friend Silous 
Wright, of New York; with another friend, Martin 
Van Buren; with Mr. George M. Dallas, and other lead- 
ing men of liigh standing, who were not mud-gutter poli- 
ticians, lambasterading on both sides of the fence, and 
who were not cohorting with the collapsed flue of the 
damned, and they each and all scorned the imputation. 
"But," said he, "Mr. President, the immortal Spartan 
band of Richmond, who rode upon a chaptered railroad 
company to vote against the inderrated Henry Clay, con- 
vinces me by their indermitable spirit that the God of 
battles are with us." 

This was received with thunders of applause scarcely 
conceivable, and he was encored to the tip-top of the 
echo. But he went on without noticing the encore, and 
soon brought down the house in a perfect uproar. He 
never cracked a smile; he was in dead earnest; and the 
words came hissing hot from his overburdened heart. 

We will illustrate our notice of this extraordinary 
man by one other quotation from a speech delivered at 



THE ORATORY OF SAMUEL D. DENOON. 153 

the African churcli to at least tM'o thousand hearers. 
He first stated the fundamental principles by which he 
thought the general government should be guided; and 
then went on, asserting that if they departed from these 
principles they became usurpers; that usurpers stepped 
up to the platform of tyranny, and raised the red flag at 
which even a bull Mould poise his horns and throw up 
the dirt in token of defiance; and if the people did not 
tear that red flag to tatters they would become abject 
slaves. " As for me," said he, " when that day comes, 
and the tyrant is enthroned, I shall leave the unbounded 
limits of this American continent, and I shall go — yes, 
sir, I'll go " — and he paused a second time, and then in a 
climacteric tone — "I'll go to the fertile plains of Han- 
Over, where the watermelons do grow and where the 
huckleberries flourish, and, basking in the sunshine of 
my own vines and flg trees, I'll robe myself with their 
umbrageous foliage. Then, sir, I will stand on my own 
pedestal, and work out my own salvation!" 

This style of oratory cannot be told effectively. The 
earnestness of the man; the tone, the gesture; the breath- 
less suspense of the hearers; the wonder at what will 
come next, and the total surprise of the conclusion, carries 
everything before it like a tornado. And yet a dignified 
wave of the hand, and they would hang in anxious ex- 
pectation for something equally strange, unique, and 
fanciful. 



10 



CHAPTER X. 

RICHMOND L. I. BLUES' DINNER. 

IT is a great pleasure to us, and we hope will Ije to our 
readers, to see how a parson can pass through the 
ordeal of public as well as private celebrations and merri- 
ments. The test of the propriety of these things depends 
upon the ability to do good amid the surroundings in 
which they may be placed, and the self-control and con- 
trol over others which they can exercise. If they find it 
impossible to control themselves, and cannot resist temp- 
tation, they have no business with the clerical robes. To 
obtain the control of others it is necessary to go where 
men are seen in moments of relaxation, and when freed 
from usual restraints. Unbending themselves, they may 
exercise all the influence in their poM^er with judgment 
and discretion, with mildness and persuasion, by exam- 
ple and by precept. If they have tact and common 
sense, their position will give them the advantage ; and 
when that control is obtained, they can wield the greater 
power, because they will then act on numbers and masses, 
who move like waves of the sea with concentrated 
energy. 

Such an opportunity was afforded oul- estimable friends 
iby the Richmond Light Infantry Blues, who were then 
in full feather, under the command of their popular cap- 
tain, William Murph3\ This volunteer company is well 
known throughout the State, and its fame has extended, 
as it justly deserves, into the neighboring States, and will 
be transmitted to posterity in the records of history. It 



RICHMOND L. I. BLUEs' DINNER. 155 

was commissioned on the 10th of May, 1793, and is in 
existence at the present day. In those days, when volun- 
teer companies were few, the ranks of this corps were 
filled to its complement with the elite of the city. They 
were not confined to the young men of the day, but men 
of all ages considered it an honor to be dubbed a " true 
blue." The anniversary of American Independence ap- 
proached ; one-third of a century had elapsed, and the 
government was stable, and rested on a sure foundation. 
The people were happy and prosperous ; they felt a noble 
pride in recalling the events of the Revolution, and re- 
counting the glorious deeds of their fathers. Everything' 
was done to honor the day, and all united in zealous ex- 
ertions to give animation and life to the occasion. It 
was a day of recreation from business, and save the show 
and pomp of military uniforms and arms, all was peace 
and quiet. 

The uniform of the Blues was very showy, consisting 
of a dark navy-blue coat with white cassimere facings on 
the breast ; collar and cuffs confined with globular silver 
buttons, having stamped upon them the coat-of-arms of 
Yirginia. The skirt was turned back at the corners, with 
similar white facings, and a blue cloth star in the centre 
of the facings. A broad white cassimere stripe ran down 
the outer seam of the pantaloons. They wore white 
vests and black stocks ; black leather caps, helmet shaped, 
with broad bands of leopard skin around them, and a 
fox-tail over the top. A light-blue plate was in front of 
the cap, surrounding the American eagle, and emblazoned 
with the name of the company and date of commission 
in white letters. On the left- side there was a wide 
leather cockade, from which sprung a large black plume, 
eighteen inches high, tipped with several inches of white 
feathers. We have been thus particular, because in 
modern times the hand of innovation and fashion has 



156 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

changed the old uniform, and we wish to prolong the re- 
collection of the days that are gone. 

The day before the Fourth our Parsons received each 
an invitation couched in the following terms. The one 
we happen to have is to the Rev. J. Buchanan. 

" The Richmond Light Infantry Blues, at their late 
meeting, instructed me specially to invite the Rev. John 
Buchanan and the Rev. John D. Blair to unite with them 
in celel)rating the anniversary of American Independence 
on the fourth instant, at Buchanan Spring, at two 
o'clock. In performing this pleasing duty, I will add, 
that the company will not only be gratified, but highly 
honored by your presence. A carriage will be at Mrs. 
Cringan's for your accommodation, and tlie company will 
escort you from thence to the Spring. 

" With tlie highest veneration and esteem, I am, 
" Truly yours, &c., 

" Wm Murphy, 
" Captain R. L. I. B^ 

The invitation 'vvas accepted, and after the usual cere- 
monies of the day, the evolutions of the military, and 
fii'ing of the national salute on the Capitol Square, the 
company, with a platoon of honorary members and other 
guests on their right, was drawn up in line on Eighth 
street, between Grace and Franklin, facing west, in front 
of Mrs. Cringan's door, the house of the lady with whom 
Parson Buchanan boarded. In a few moments Captain 
Murphy appeared with our friends, one on each arm,, 
when the first lieutenant gave the command, " Company, 
present arms," The salute was acknowledged by the 
Parsons, each taking off his hat, and the band played a 
stave or two of " Hail Columbia " in fine style, the cap- 
tain amd guests passing along the line to the carriage on 



RICHMOND L. I. BLUEs' DINNER. 157 

the riglit, into which they entered. The heutenant tak- 
ing command, the company was broken into cohimns of 
platoons, and marched in quick time, with gay music, to 
their rendezvous at Buchanan's Spring. 

The farm on which the spring was located was the pro- 
perty of Parson Buchanan, and from him the spring de- 
rived its name. The water was pure, transparent, cool 
.and delightful, embowered under old oaks ; and the place 
was resorted to by all the volunteer companies on their 
festive occasions, because of its tine water, magnificent 
shade, perfect quietude and exemption from dust. By 
special donation from the proprietor, the Blues had the 
preference of occupation, and continued its use until 
within a few years past. There was a spacious wooden 
shed fitted up especially for these occasions. 

Arrived within the enclosure, the company stacked 
arms, and then were brought into line, in single rank, and 
the captain, with a parson as before on either arm, pro- 
ceeded down the line, 'introducing them to every man, 
and an old-fashioned Virginia shake of the hand was 
given. 

They had proceeded but a short distance, when Willie 
Walroun, a Scotchman, — then a young man and lately 
married — stepped out of the line, and said with great 
animation, "Why, Parson Buchanan, dinna ye ken me? 
Why, ye joined our hands, — Betsy and I, — and said, 
'Wham God hath joined together let nae man put 
asunder.' Gie me your hand." And he shook it as 
'twould be his last. " Indeed, and I do," said the Par- 
son, "And I gae ye a bonnie leesorae lassie for your 
wifie; and ye maun cling till her wi' kindness and affec- 
tion sae lang as ye baitli shall live." " Sae I will, God 
willing," said he. 

A little further on, Peter Boatwright, said, "And Par- 
son Blair, you christened my little Willie." "And you 



158 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

promised, Peter, to bring him up in the way he should 
go ; and I told you when he was old he would not depart 
from it. Mind you keep your promise." " So I will,' 
he said. 

" Come and break bread with us," said another ; " And 
the latch string is on the outside of the door for both of 
you," said a fourth. "It does me good to see you here," 
said another; and still another said, "A grip of your hand,, 
old friends." So they went on, every man giving them 
a hearty welcome after his own fashion. 

The company was then dismissed, and the captain said, 
" I must introduce you, my friends, to an old customer of 
ours who is never neglected. I present to you the 
'Blues' bowl,' and here is Jasper Crouch, the special at- 
tendant of his majesty." Tiiey both knew Jasper better 
than they did the bowl. He was a genial mulatto, who 
officiated at all tlie Blues' dinners, and his appearance 
showed he indulged in good living and high seasonings. 
He knew his place, and never transcended the privileges 
allowed him. 

This bowl deserves a short notice. It was in the pos- 
session of the company some time before the period of this 
celebration, and so continued until the memorable lire 
which destroyed the Spotswood Hotel, on Christmas Eve, 
1870, when it was broken and melted by the fervent 
heat at that conflagration. Tliere are now remaining but 
a few pieces, scraped from the embers, and kept as relics 
of former times by devoted honorary and regular mem- 
bei-s of the company. This was an India china bowl, 
with the capacity to hold thirty-two gallons. We have 
seen it often filled with julep, punch and apple toddy, 
and once with egg-nog; and we have seen it emptied by 
enthusiastic admirers. 

Jasper not only knew his place, but could not be sur- 
passed in compounding liquors by young or old, or in 



RICHMOND L. I. BLUEs' DINNER. 159 

politeness in serving the company and its guests. When 
he died, the worthy old man was buried with military 
honors by the company. 

On this occasion the bowl was filled with punch, made 
of the freshest lemons, of Robert Gordon's best old Cog- 
niac brandy and Jamaica rum, and was mixed by Jasper 
in the proportion of four-fifths of brandy to one of rum, 
and a dash of old Murdock Madeira just to give it a 
flavor and tone, and to take off the fieiy edge. It was 
made strong and sweet, but reduced by pouring into the 
capacious bowl at least one-third of transparent ice. It 
is no easy matter to mix thirty-two gallons of any beve- 
rage and make it good. Jasper rarely failed. 

This was the compound, this the vessel which contained 
it, and this the servitor who filled the glasses. 

"Jasper," said the captain, "these are our welcome 
guests, your old friends, who touch lightly, you know. 
Give them something delicate and nice." 

"Mars Blair," says Jasper, "yon is a judge. Is de 
'I'orna' of de proper flavor^ — is it all smooth and sa- 
vory ? " 

" Mars Buchanan, I l^nom you knows what's good. I 
thinks it's all right. What you say ? " 

" Couldn't be beat, Jasper," said both of them. 

Jasper made them a low bow, and smiled wdth a self- 
satisfied look. 

"And now, gentlemen," said the captain, "you have 
seen the elephant; mingle among the men at your ease, 
and make yourselves at home. But stay : let us pass be- 
hind the scenes and see what John Dabney is doing." 

John was the cook — not a French cook, famed for the 
preparation of confections and made dishes of magnifi- 
cent names — but a real old-fashioned Virginia cook, who 
knew how to serve a hospitable gentleman's dinner boun- 



160 THE TWO PARSOJ^S. 

tifuUj, and ill a style that might be creditable to a Lord 
Mayor or a Queen. 

" What are yon about, Dabney ? " said the captain. 

" Giving it the last touch," said John, without turning 
round, as he poured a bottle of old port-wine into the 
magnificent pot of green-turtle soup. " Catsup, wine, 
and some Worcester, Mars Captain, keeps the turtles' 
ghosts from haunting the men." Then turning, he said, 
" Lor', if it aint Mars Blair and Mars Buchanan ! I ax 
your pardon. I wouldn't have mentioned ghosts if I had 
known 'twas you. I knows you loves fish, Mars Blair. 
We is gwine to give you sheepshead to-day," 

" Turtle soup and sheepshead ! " replied Parson Blair. 
'•'Well! well! That will do, brother Buchanan. We 
will let the curtain drop now." And they mingled with 
the men in social chat. 

In due time dinner was served, our two Parsons seated 
on the right and left of the captain, and the other guests 
immediately around them, — the company falling in pell- 
mell. Turtle and fish then regaled their palates, while 
punch enhanced the flavor and washed them down. 

"Now mourn, ye geese; ye turkeys, mourn; 
And hens for chickens from you torn ; 
Ye beeves and sheep, your fate lament, 
And grunt, ye hogs, with one consent ; 
How bravely were your limbs attack'd, 
And by the foe in pieces hack'd ! 
Amidst the busy work of death. 
At first no mortal paused for breath ; 
So long, indeed, had been their fasting, 
Their appetites seemed everlasting." 

But when appetites are appeased, noise and bustle 
comparatively cease, and men grow calmer. Then there 



RICHMOND L. I. BLUEs' DINNER. 161 

came a fresh supply of ammunition, and bottles of cham- 
pagne displayed their gray heads from one end of the 
table to the other, and the popping of the bottles re- 
minded one of the running fire from a line of skirmishers 
who have been pushed forward to bring on a battle." 

Here Captain Murphy rose from his seat, and said: 
"As usual. Blues, the committee have prepared'a set of 
regular toasts in honor of the day ; but desirous of wel- 
coming our guests before announcing them, they have re- 
quested me to give this toast. You will do me the 
favor, therefore, to ' charge your glasses.' I give you : 
' The Rev, John D. Blair and the Rev. John Buchanan, 
recruiting ofticers for a holy army. The bounty they 
offer for devoted service is a blissful future, without 
money and without price.' " 

This toast was received with boisterous applause, and 
with one voice they called for Parson Blair. He slowly 
rose, and said : " Gentlemen of the Blues, I glory in being 
a recruiting officer for a holy army — the emblem on our 
flag is Peace. In the language of the heavenly host at 
the birth of our Master, I give you peace, ' Glory to God 
in tlie highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.' 
And in the language of the Master Himself, I will say 
to the tumultuous waves of strife and sin, 'Peace, be 
still.' " 

This toast was received evidently with reverence, but 
it was responded to by rising and giving three cheers with 
a will. Then before seating themselves, they vociferously 
called for' Parson Buchanan. 

He seemed to be thinking for a moment, then raising 
his face with a beaming smile, rose and said, " Blues, you 
know the perfect concord that exists between brother 
Blair and myself, and yet, on this occasion we are ap- 
parently sundered. He is for peace, I am for vjar." 
And he paused, to give them time to think of the dif- 



162 ■ THE TWO PARSONS. 

f erence. . " Yes, 1 give you war /" and his voice rang out 
clear as. the mellow notes of a deep toned bell. "Un- 
compromising war^ against the devil and his host of sin 
and iniquity." 

He resumed his seat amidst roars of laughter; for the 
surprise was complete, and the turn he gave to their ex- 
pfi'ctations was extremely felicitous. Tliey gave three 
tirhes three and a tiger; and the bugle sounded a few 
animating, war-inspiring notes. 

Such were the men we are commending, and such their 
opportunities for doing good. Think you the men of 
this company did not remember these toasts; think you 
they did not speak of the sentiments to their friends ; 
think you they were not restrained from indulging too 
freely in the bowl by the reverence they felt for these 
good men? 

The regular toasts were then announced, and in a 
short time the troop of (javalry, who had dined at God- 
din's spring, commanded by that fine ofhcer and accom- 
plished gentleman, Robert Gamble, came over to help 
the Blues, as they said, empty their big bowl. The 
governor at the captain's side, and old Frederick, the 
black bugler, at the head of the column, playing Wash- 
ington's march, rode up in fine style. In a short time 
they accomplished the emptying of the bowl to the en- 
tire satisfaction of both companies, and in mutual friend- 
ship and fine harmonious feeling escorted their guests 
back to the city. While the companies repaired to the 
Capitol Square to fire the evening salute, our two Par- 
sons returned together to Mrs. Cringan's, where Parson 
Blair had the pleasure of finding his good wife. They 
concluded, therefore, to spend the evening with Parson 
Buchanan, and recount the pleasant incidents of the day, 
and laugh over their peaceful and war -like speeches. 
The evening's entertainment gave rise, as usual, to the 



RICHMOND L. I. BLUEs' DINNER. 163 

following correspondence. The letter of Parson Blair 
was addressed to Mrs. Cringan : 

" Dear Madam : 

"A doubt between my rib and me 
Arose about last evening's tea, 
' It was the best black tea,' she said, 
' That ever in the world was made.' 
'Black tea,' says I, 'it we'nt black tea.' 
' Indeed, indeed it was,' says she. 
' Well, well,' says I, ' its not material. 
But yet, I think it was imperial.' 
Now pray decide and end the strife 
Between the husband and the wife, 
Or else, or else, or else, who knows, 
But it may come at last to blows ; 
For many wives have made a clatter 
About a much more trifling matter. 

" Yours, Arc, J. D. B." 

This letter drew forth Parson Buchanan in his first 
effort at rhyme : 

" To his reverence, J. D. B., 
I send a history of the tea. 
My friend, I tell you in a crack. 
The tea 1 drank is called the black ; 
But out of compliment to thee. 
My hostess gave imperial tea. J. B." 

This is the old story of the chameleon. One drank 
black tea and the other imperial — both were right and 
both were wrong. Thus the difficulty was amicably 
adjusted, and there was no necessity for resorting to the 
direful alternative — " Or else, or else, or else." 



164: THE TWO PARSONS. 

While we are relating incidents connected with the 
Blues, we cannot avoid laying before our readers a poeti- 
cal letter sent by Parson Blair to Captain Henry S. 
Shore. This gentleman, you will remember, had married 
the beautiful sister of Mrs. Blair, and M^as, at the time 
the letter was written, ma^^or of the city, and had been 
honored by the Blues by being chosen captain of their 
company the year preceding the second election of Cap- 
tain Murpliy. Parson Blair's letter was to congratulate 
him on his election : 

"To Capt. Henky S. Shore, of the R. L. I. Blues: 
" It is ' His Worship ' now no more, 
But the brave Captain Harry Shore ; 
Yet still, to raise the title higher, 
To ' captain ' we may add ' esquire.' 
And now, with Captain Shore's permission, 
I wish him joy of his commission. 
And hope he'll guard his native land 
Against its foes with sword in hand. 
No enterprise M'ould /refuse, 
Back'd hj the gallant Bichmond Blues. 

"Yom-s, &c., J. D. B." 

Answer by Captain Shore : 

" Right Kev'd sir, accept the captain's thanks 
For verses rare, quite free from 'jests and pranks,' 
In which it seems, indeed, you scorn to flatter, 
Yet mix not praise e'en with a spice of satire ; 
But strange it is, one of your peaceful trade 
Should thus congratulate a martial blade, 
Who for the sword his aldermanic gown 
And honors worshipful has now laid down 
To lead the dauntless sons of Richmond town. 



KICHMOND L. I. BLUEs' DINNER. 165t 

'Tis stranger still thou should'st in war delight, 
And be like Jonathan, ' chock full of fight.' 
What enterprise, dread warrior, wilt thou choose ? 
Whate'er it be I'll back thee with my Blues ; 
Whether in battle British troops to maul, 
Or beat the legions of the furious Gaul ; 
Or dost thou, in thy bravery, hint to me. 
That Tny true Blues were better led by thee ? 
For if they back thee, thou must strut before. 
And thou their captain be, not Henry Shore. 
Explain this point, then, as my honor's nice, 
For men of war will quarrel in a trice ; 
But if you mean not any competition. 
Come drink with me success to m^^ commission ; 
That proof of friendship will suffice, I think ; 
Bi vino Veritas, we say, who drink. 

" Yours truly, H. S. S." 

In reply to which mock sharp and mock heroic epistle, 
which, from the intimacy existing between the brothers- 
in-law and their families, was perfectly understood to be 
not entirely "free from jests and pranks," the following, 
grave and formal explanation was made: 

"To Captain Shore: 

" I acknowledge, sir, with compliments. 
The receipt of yours of fierce contents ; 
'Twas Sunday night it came to hand. 
An explanation to demand 
Of some civilities of mine, 
On your promotion in the line ; 
Had it come earlier in the dav, 
I had been filled with such dismay. 
With fear and wonder so perplexed,. 
As scarcely to have found my text. 



166 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Thanks to the bearer's kind discretion, 

For a few honrs of its suppression. 

'Tis hard the talent of a poet, 

Whene'er he takes in hand to show it 

In civil phrase and courtly letters, 

Should be mistaken by his betters ; 

But yet sometimes so high his flight, 

His meaning is left out of sight. 

' Dost thou,' you say, ' in bravery hint to me, 

That my true Blues were better led by thee. 

For if they back thee, thou must strut before. 

And thou their captain be, not Henry Shore.'' 

Explain this point then, as my honor's nice. 

For men of war will quarrel in a trice.' 

Not Agamemnon's self, by passion sway'd, 

In singular number could so well upbraid. 

Your daahes too, italic's place supplying. 

Must doubtless be intended for defying. 

Good lack-a-day ! What will become of me ? 

A parson I — a blood}^ warrior he ! 

For one short moment, pray, keep up your sword ! 

Captain ! I meant no harm, upon my word. 

I said not, I was better^ no, nor bolder ; 

Your own hiice honor'' can but make me older. 

'Tis true, when you were in your nurse's arms, 

I served in war, nor dreaded war's alarms; 

Yet I boast not of this, I can assure ye, 

Most noble captain, to be born before ye. 

Had you been with us, and your gallant train. 

You would have sav'd us many a hard campaign ; 

We should have seen you, like the lightning, fly on 

The roaring, swagg'ring, crouching British Lion ; 

But when our Washington bade battle cease, 

I turned attention to the ' trade ' of peace ; 

In that employment, handling arms no more. 



KICHMOND L. I. BLDEs' DINiSTER. 167 

I take protection under Captain Shore, 

And hope he will th' ill-gotten power retrench 

Of up-start Corsican and bloody French; 

For if not, '/,' much less would he, refuse 

The gallant action ' backed by Richmond Blues.' 

This was ' the sum and front of my oifending,' 

'No more' — a compliment to both intending.' 

"J. D. B. 
"P. S.: 

"I hope you will not deem me indiscreet. 
To equal you, in number of your feet ; 
Your flowing lines with harmony full fraught, 
Drew me along 'a'maist' before I thought. 

"KB.: 

"I hear that since the date of your commission, 
Your household, too, has had a large addition ; 
Health to the mother, and young mother Bunch. 
I'll come at five — have you a bowl of punch. 

"J. D. B." 



CHAPTER XL 

PAKSON BLAIR'S SCHOOL FOR BOYS. 

WE have said that Parson Blair was in moderate 
circumstances. Being dependent, as a preacher, 
upon the gratuitous contributions of his congregation, 
which were frequently small and not regularly paid, his 
receipts from this source could not be relied upon for the 
support of his family, and he was compelled to resort to 
the occupation of a teacher. He had opened at his own 
house a private school, at which a limited number of boys 
were taught ; it being his aim conscientiously to benefit 
his scholars, and b}^ their advancement in their studies to 
remunerate the parents and prepare the pupils to become 
useful citizens in after life. His system was founded on 
the idea of moral suasion, leading the boys to obedience 
bv kindness and patience, attracting their attention by 
rendering their studies intelligible and instructive, and 
making them perceive the benefit and utility of what 
they were taught. He possessed the rare faculty of in- 
teresting the youthful mind upon the subjects before it, 
and inducing inquiry and investigation under the hope of 
discovering for itself something new. He delighted in 
leading the mind to analyze every question, to trace its 
ramifications, connections and associations, and open up 
to inquisitive youth new thoughts and suggestions, con- 
necting and linking them together in a chain of argument 
for logical deductions. He would say, that whenever he 
went into a machine-shop, in which the blacksmith was 
w^orking upon heated metal, and saw at each stroke of 



PARSON BL air's SCHOOL FOR BOYS. 169 

the sturdy arm the sparks flying in every direction and 
tlie new form given to the shapeless mass, he could not 
avoid thinking of the youthful minds under his care, with 
their brains heated by attrition to ductility; and he often 
thought, when lie saw the sparks elicited, that he was 
that blacksmith, and ought to prepare and brighten up 
that malleable brain to be a thing of utility and orna- 
ment. With such views and aims, it is not remarkable 
that his boys rapidly improved, and were devoted to 
him in the school and throughout their subsequent lives. 
Many of his scholars became men of distinction and in- 
fluence. 

We remember to have heard, long subsequent to these 
times, Joseph Tate, one of his scholars, who in after 
years was the honored Mayor of the City of Kichmond, 
refer to scenes that occurred in that old school-room at 
Parson Blair's with peculiar pleasure. He said there was 
no teacher in his day who, when he saw a boy did not 
understand a subject or a word, would take more pains 
or could make him understand it more thoroughly. His 
explanations were full, explicit, plain, and covered the 
entire ground. He knew how to impart knowledge; he 
knew how to interest and captivate the mind ; he went 
to the root, and followed its main stem and fibres, and 
then went up through the body and the limbs to the 
leaves, the blossoms and the fruit. 

We remember to have heard that, on a certain occasion, 
he called up one of his more advanced scholars, who was 
studying Greek, and said to him: "Jack, here are the 
words '• Megathumos AcMllexis^ what do they mean? 
What is the meaning of megathumos V The little fellow 
looked around to be prompted. Another boy, close to 
him, said in an undertone, "jPe«r^," and without think- 
ing, Jack very confidently said, "The peart Achilles.''^ 
The good man smiled and chuckled inwardly at his own 
11 



170 THE TWO PARSONS. 

thoughts. " The peart Acliilles !" this is certainly a new- 
idea ; well, well !" 

But instead of flying into a passion, as some teachers 
would have done, and cracking the boy over the head 
with the book, he said, in a mild tone, "Come here. Jack; 
stand between my knees and let us talk it over ; I want 
you to understand these words. Now, don't wait next 
time to be prompted by Thom, who, out of miscihief, has 
misled you, but always look for the words in the diction- 
ary yourself; and if you cannot find them, or have for- 
gotten the meaning, say so, and ask me to explain it. It 
will always give me pleasure to do so. Now listen, and 
don't forget this as long as you live. In the first place? 
there is no such word as peart. It is a negroism — a cor- 
ruption of the word pert. If you ask them how they are 
this morning, they are apt to reply, 'Why, sir, I feels 
right peart.' It denotes that he feels not entirely well, 
but smartly better, tolerably lively. The poet Milton 
uses it as 'brisk,' 'smart,' 'lively.' Sometimes it signifies 
over-assuming, over-forward, impertinent. Pert some- 
times may mean bold and garrulous ; but peart does not 
convey that idea to me. By and by, when you come 
to be a man, and associate with men of talents, some one 
may say, ' What a grand-sounding language the Greek is.' 
Then he may say, ' What comes nearer to the sense than 
the sound of the epithet so often applied by Homer to 
his heroes, and particularly to Achilles?' You know, 
Jack, that Achilles was a great general. He commanded 
the myrmidons at the siege of Troy. Homer was the 
great Greek poet. He calls Achilles '■ Megathumos Achil- 
leus.^ Do you think it would do to call a general like 
Achilles the peart 'Achilles? There is something finical, 
frisky, trifling in the word peart. Would you like to 
hear any body call General Washington the peart Wash- 
ington ? It would be supremely ridiculous. The mean- 



PARSON BLAIR's SCHOOL FOR BOYS. 171 

ing of megathiimos is magnanimous. The words them- 
selves, without knowing the signification, have a grand 
sound — give the mind an elevating thought of the person 
to whom they are applied. You are learning Greek; 
now, you ought to know what megathumos comes from. 
"Well, listen. It is composed of two words — megas, 
great, and thumos, the mind. Now, when you look in 
your Greek dictionary, you will find it megas — magniis^ 
and thumos — animus. And the English word magnani- 
mous is composed . of these two Latin words, magnus 
animus. Magnanimous means greatness of mind. Think 
about it ; it is that elevation or dignity of soul which en- 
counters danger and trouI)le with tranquillity and firmness ; 
which raises the possessor above revenge, and makes him 
delight in acts of benevolence; which makes him disdain 
injustice or meanness, and prompts him to sacrifice per- 
sonal ease, interest and safety for the accomplishment of 
useful and noble objects. 

" The same thought is carried out in the French lan- 
guage. The word in French is wagndnime. Then 
7negath'U7nos Achilleus is the magnanimous Achilles. 
At the same time, I must tell you, when you are able to 
read Homer easily, you will, I think, perceive that 
Achilles was not always magnanimous. He was too 
often hurried into improprieties and wrong by giving 
way to his passions. No man ought to be carried away 
by passion. Now, go to your seat, and don't forget as 
long as you live that megathimios does not mean jo^ar^, 

" And now, Thom, for your turn. You ought to be 
ashamed of yourself to prompt Jack wrong, because I 
know you know better. Never deceive any body, but par- 
ticularly a friend, my boy. God does not love deception." 

Boys, as everybody knows, take the greatest delight in 
playing pranks upon each other, and quizzing is one of 
the principles by which smart youths are actuated. It 



172 THE TWO PARSONS. 

displays the activity of their minds. This boy Thorn, 
whom our good schoolmaster had just reproved, was a 
remarkable boy — very quick, very intelligent, full of fun 
and mischief. He was a leader in the school, and the 
boys looked up to Thom whenever any devilment was on 
foot, to bring them out of the scrape, precisely as brave 
men look with admiration upon their cavalry leader when 
he orders them to follow him in a charo-e against the 
enemy. " Come on, boys,'' he says. They know it is a 
desperate affair, but they follow, yelling and shouting, 
expecting that he will bring them safely from the melee. 
They rely upon his valor, but they rely, too, upon his 
discretion and judgment ; and if they should perchance 
be unsuccessful, they feel that he will know when and 
how to get them out of the difficulty. 

The boys had half an hour for recreation at midday, 
and the Parson generally left them to themselves, and did 
not choose to see the peccadillos of which they would be 
the perpetrators, nor to hear the noise they would certainly 
make. The truth was, they made less noise, and were 
guilty of fewer pranks, because they found it did not 
annoy him. If it had, their ingenuity would have been 
brightened ten fold. On this day, however, as soon as 
the Parson's back was turned, Thom said, " Boys, if you 
won't tell, I will pour this half -bottle of ink into the 
pitcher of water, and we will see how the Parson will 
take it." They were all full of it, and Thom, witliout 
more ado, carried out his purpose to perfection. "Xow, 
Bill, when the Parson comes in, ask him if he will take 
a glass of fresh water, just from the spring." 

Accordingly, in a minute or two, the little school bell 
tingled, and they began scuffling for their seats. Bill 
stepped up and said : " Mr. Blair, will you have a glass 
of water, fresh from the spring ?" " Yes," said the good 
man, " I will." The boy poured out the supposed water, 



PARSON BLAIr's SCHOOL FOR BOYS. 173 

and holding it up, expressed great surprise at its color. 
" It is as black as soot," lie said. The Parson looked at 
it and smiled. " "Which of you scamps has done this ?" 
All who spoke denied it. Thom was looking in his desk 
for a book, and said nothing; but his pretended search 
did not escape the Parson. He went to the fire, and 
taking up the poker, put it in where it would quickly 
heat. " Now," said he, " I don't often notice little tricks 
done for mischief, because I know it is the nature of a 
boy to do these little things; it is their fun, and they 
would not be happy without something of the kind ; but 
I will venture to say that I can tell who was guilty of 
this trick. Whoever it was had better confess, for I 
shall certainly detect the one who did it." Xot one would 
confess, and it was a principle not to tell tales upon each 
other. This point he did not press. He knew it was 
always impressed upon the school boys' minds that they 
should not tell tales out of school, and nothing was more 
natural, therefore, than that they should think it equally 
improper to tell tales on each other in school. He would 
always say, '' A tale-bearer is a mischief-maker. I do not 
permit them to come whispering in my ear. The habitual 
tell-tale is one of the meanest and most despicable char- 
acters, x^fter a wliile he learns to accuse others falsely, 
and not unfrequently covers his own sins by imputing 
them basely to his friends. I do not tolerate tell-tales 
among my scholars." So, instead of saying, " If you do 
not tell me who did it,'' he said, kindly, " The boy who 
did it ought to own it manfully. Well," said he, " I 
shall subject you all to a test that I know will succeed 
in discovering the guilty party. You must all of you 
stand here in a row, with your backs to me, each one 
holding both hands open behind him." It took some 
time to arrange them properly and to keep them still. 
Then, taking the red-hot poker out of the fire and show- 



174 THE TWO PARSONS. 

ing it, he again said : " I shall go along the line, and lay 
the poker, hot as it is, right in the hands of the guilty 
boy. I shall not touch a boy who is innocent, but I will 
lay it in the hands of the one who did it. Be sure you 
do not look behind, for if you do, I shall suspect that you 
are guilty and afraid." They stood up, and most of them 
very firmly. He passed slowly along, as if examining the 
palms of the hands, and when he came to Thom, he 
flourished the poker, and Thom jerked his hands in- 
stantly away. "Aha!" said the good man, "it is you, 
is it ? You could not stand the test." Thom was fairly 
caught, and all the boys roai-ed with laughter. The 
Parson took his seat in his arm chair and ordered all to 
their seats. 

" Now, Thom," he said, softening his tone, " I am con- 
fident you will not commit a similar offence again. Take 
the pitcher to the spring, clean it thoroughly, and bring 
a fresh pitcher of pure water ; Wash the tumbler, too. 
And go and sin no more." 

Thom did as he was required, and not another word 
was ever said to him on that subject. The boys enjoyed 
the joke, and admired the Parson more than ever. 

How different from the course of many persons we 
have known in our day. Before punishment, it is dinned 
into their ears and turned over as a sweet morsel under 
their tongues. It is a delightful episode. Even after 
punishment, at every occurrence of the least fault, every 
previous offence is rooted up from whence it should have 
been buried and thrown at the offender with a fresh re- 
minder of harsh epithets and abusive threats. There is 
no Lethe even for petty offences ; oblivion wipes out no 
sin, but memory delights in keeping the offence ever 
green and blooming. At last the offender becomes 
callous, angry and careless of consequences. He not only 
don't care, but delights in giving trouble and vexation. 



PARSON BL air's SCHOOL FOR BOYS. 175 

The person thus vexes himself by a continual repetition 
of evil thoughts and passions, frets the culprit without 
doing any good, and annoys everybody else who notices 
his course. Heproof has ceased to have effect, and the 
reprobate is not changed by such a course as this. 
Reader, did you ever see anytliing like this ? If you 
have, let it be a lesson to you ; if you have practised it, 
pause and reflect. Go, as the good master said, and sin 
no more. There are occasions, however, when the mildest 
persons will become fretted. There is nothing more 
difficult than to control the feelings, if not the passions. 
We should be more than mortal if a continued I'cpetition 
of annoyances that excite the nervous system should not 
sometimes momentarily cause us to give way to exasper- 
ation. The really good person who is thus led astray 
repents afterwards most sincerely, and takes himself to 
task the more severely because he has permitted himself 
to be fretted by trifles. In grave matters, the man will 
sometuxies say to himself, " Am I a dog, that I should do 
this thing ?" resolving firmly in his mind to abstain from 
it, and then, before he is aware of his own action, he 
finds that he is the guilty person. " Thou art the man,'^ 
said Nathan to David. He does not believe it is possible 
for him to do it. " Though I should die with thee, yet 
will I not deny thee," said Peter. " This night, before 
the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice." 

In these little matters of the management of boys, our 
good Parson had often schooled himself to patience and 
endurance, and had resolved never to show passion or 
permit anger to control his actions. He called up 
Williamson, one of the boys, to demonstrate a problem 
in Euclid at the blackboard. While he was soino- on 
very well, another boy, Whitlock, sitting a little out of 
view, at the end of the bench, commenced pinching him 
keenly. Williamson at first contented himself with 



176 THE TWO PARSONS, 

gently kicking Wiiitlock in return for d^ch pinch. The 
Parson, not seeing the real offender, gently reproved 
Williamson. "Attend to your demonstration and quit 
kicking your neighbor," he said. As soon as the Parson's 
eye was turned, the little shaver deliberately stuck a pin 
in Williamson's leg, which made him jump and gave him 
the desire to scratch his leg, as if a flea had inserted his 
proboscis exactly in that point of the back which no one 
can reach with his hands. " What is the matter with 
you ?" said the Parson to Williamson. Upon which 
Whitlock stuck the pin deeper ; and the boy, not being 
able to bear it longer, slapped Whitlock on the side of 
the head, saying, "Take ihat^ sir." This made the 
Parson give way a little to anger. "If you do that 
again," he said, " I will assuredly slap you in return, and 
you know I do not promise and then fail to comply." 
There was a tumbler of water near by. Williamson, by 
this time, having his young blood up, picked up the 
tumbler and threw the water deliberately into Whitlock's 
face. At the same moment, to be as good as his word, 
the good man let fly, and gave Williamson a slap that 
sounded through the room. Williamson, stumbling over 
Whitlock, fell sprawling to the floor. All the passion 
oozed out at the Parson's Angers with the blow ; he went 
to Williamson and picked him up. Whitlock, immedi- 
atel}' regretting what he had done, said, manfully, " M:\ 
Blair, I pinched Jemmy and stuck a pin in him ; he was 
not to blame. I did it." " Come here, boys," said the 
Parson. " Kow we are all to blame. Whitlock was 
wrong to pinch and stick Jemmy. Jemmy was wrong ; 
he ought not to have slapped George in the face and 
ought not to have tlirown the water. I was wrong not 
to have investigated the matter and ascertained the cause 
of such unusual behavior; and then I was to blame for 
giving way to excitement. 1 sincerely regret what I did, 



PARSON BLAIR's SCHOOL FOR BOYS. 177 

and I think we have all cause for regret. Let it sink into 
our hearts, and be a lesson to all for the future." 

We happen to know, from hearing these boys speak 
of it in after life, that the mildness of the good man and 
his subsequent course made them both love him with 
sincere affection ; and when they were grown men, they 
would sometimes recall the circumstances to the good 
Parson himself, and they would have a merry laugh over 
the event. 

We have seen, and everybody knows, the habit of boys 
at school to prompt each other — sometimes with a real 
desire to help their comrades out of difficulty, sometimes, 
from sheer mischief, to get them into trouble. Whitlock, 
as we have just had occasion to know, was a generous 
boy, but a very mischievous one, and when the boys were 
all playing together, used to say, " What do you all stand 
up like fools for when you are stumped ?" (or caulked, 
as they sometimes call it.) " Why don't you say some- 
thing ? I always growl or mumble something or other, 
and appear to know, if I don't. I am not going to stand 
still like a gump and bite my fingers." 

The next time the history class was called up to recite, 
little Bedloe Dunscombe was singled out. " Bedloe, who 
was the first historian of Virginia?" 

" Who was the first V said Bed, repeating the question. 

■•' Yes," said the Parson, " I desire to know who was 
the first person who gave an account of what was done 
— of what happened after our forefathers landed at 
Jamestown." 

Bed, to gain time, looking at Whitlock anxiously, said, 
in an enquiring manner, " When they landed at James- 
town ?" 

" Yes," said the Parson, patiently. " Who was the 
first Virginia historian ?" 

" Growl," said Whitlock, in a whisper. 



178 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" Oh, yes," said Bedloe, promptly, " it was Growl." 

" Well, well, well ; I never heard of him before," said 
the Parson, amused. 

" Mumble," whispered Whitlock. 

" No," said Bedloe, " I made a mistake ; " not Growl, 
I meant Mainhle^'' 

"Mumble," said the Parson ; " dear, dear me. "Where 
did he come from ?" 

" Kamtchatka," whispered Whitlock. 

" From Kamtchatka," said Bed. 

" That will do," said the Parson. " Growl or Mumble, 
from Kamtchatka, was the very first Virginia historian. 
Dear, dear ; I have one more new wrinkle. I never did 
hear of these famous historians in all my reading. Why 
did you not confess at once that you had no, knowledge 
on the subject? Whitlock told you to growl, but you 
did not even know the meaning of growl ; and then he 
told you to nuimble, and you did not know" that. Growl 
is to make a low" murmur or a hoarse noise of suppressed 
anger — to snarl like an angry dog. Do you think that 
would make a Virginia historian % Mumble is to utter 
an indistinct sound, with the lips half closed. In other 
words, to pretend you were saying something when yon 
were not. A historian ought to write a very clear, dis- 
tinct account, and have no mumldino- about the matter. 
And then, when I asked where Mr. Mumble came from, 
prompted by your knowing friend, you said Kamtchatka. 
Now, Whitlock, where is Kamtchatka V 

Whitlock was as much posed as Bedloe. 

" I do not wish you to go away from this school," said 
the Parson, " without knowing something about the words 
you use. Kamtchatka is in the empire of Russia. It is 
on the northeast of the continent of Asia. It is a penin- 
sula, with seventeen volcanoes in full blast upon it. 
The people are of diminutive stature, but stout, with flat 



PARSON BLAIr's SCHOOL FOR BOYS. 179 

features, small ejes, thin lips, lank black hair, and scarcely 
any beard. They transport produce and other things in 
sledges, drawn by dogs. They are mostly hunters and 
fishermen. 

" Now, you see, it's not likely that these people should 
become the first historians of Virginia. I wanted you to 
know who was the first historian, so that you might go to 
the fountain-head to learn all about the first settlement 
of the State in which you live — how old the State was, 
and from what sort of people Virginians as a general 
thing descended. So now I tell you Capt. John Smith 
wrote the first book upon the subject. Ask for his 
history — tliere are some queer things in that book. He 
was a brave man, and possessed a great deal of ready 
knowledge, enabling him to l)ecome a noted pioneer in 
settling a new country and controlling men. Smith came 
over from England in the fleet of three vessels sent out 
by the London Company. They landed on James River, 
at a place they afterwards called Jamestown, both river 
and town so called in honor of James I, who was then 
King of England. This was the first English settlement 
in the United States. This Jamestown was a noted place 
in former days. It was founded in 1607 ; was burned 
to the ground by Nathaniel Bacon at the time of Bacon's 
rebellion, and there are now only two or three old houses, 
the ruins of an old church and the remains of a fort, and 
these constitute the sole relics of the ancient town. 

" Capt. Smith was taken prisoner by Powhatan, the 
great Indian chief, who was king over the Indians at that 
time; and when he was about to be put to death, by 
order of the chief, he was saved by Pocahontas, the 
daughter of the chief. He wrote a book, which he styled 
'The General Historic of Virginia, New England and 
the Summer Isles,' in 1626. 

" Now, when I ask you again any questions, I will 



180 THE TWO PAKSONS, 

have bath of you to understand, Whitlock and Bed, that 
I want rather more intelligence than will suffice to" growl 
or mumble." 

When the school was dismissed. Parson Buchanan, as 
usual, stopped by to see what progress Parson Blair was 
making in enlightening the youthful intellect, and seeing 
the boys kicking up their heels and playing all sorts of 
antics, took note of what they were doing and saying ; 
and being full of what he saw and heard, said to Parson 
Blair : " Did you ever hear the rigmarole these boys 
make use of in their games ? It sounded so queer to me 
that I asked one of them to wiite it down. I have been 
studying it since, but cannot make head or tail of it." 

" What is it ■?" 

"Why— 

" ' One's all, two's all, zig, zall, zal, 
Bob tail vinegar, and tittle tall tal ; 
Harum scarum, spiriti vorum, 
Singulum sangulum, buckwheat fritters.' " 

" Indeed," said Parson Blair, " this distitch has occupied 
many of my spare moments. It is to be unravelled like 
ancient hieroglyphics, and will bear much scientific re- 
search. I like the poetry, the dog Latin and the uncom- 
mon conclusion. It jumps \vith my humor and curiosity. 
The boys use these lines when pla^dng, as tliey call it, 
'high spy,' that is, 'I spy,' imitating military men in 
giving their word of coinmand ; for you know when they 
mean 'right face,' they say, with grave demeanor, 
'hight hace,' and 'left face' is 'heft hace,' and so on. 
The boys assemble, all in the game, in a row. One of 
them stands and counts, and when he gets to the last they 
all scamper off and hide in some imagined place of 
security. The distitch shows the process of counting and 



PAESON BLAIr's SCHOOL FOR BOYS. 181 

developes the meaning thus : ' One's all, two's all, zig 
zall zaL' That is, one of all, two of all; then he counts 
with his fingers until he says six of all, and, touching the 
little girl, he says, Sail. Then he comes to a boy with a 
bob-tail coat on, who he imagines is looking as sour as 
verjuice, so he says a bob-tail vinegar, and then a little 
tall gal. But in his rapid way of speaking, and for the 
sake of the alliteration, he makes it tittle tall tab Harum 
scarum, that is, hurry off in every direction belter skelter, 
pell mell. Spiriti vorum, with the spirit of us or you. 
Singulum sangulum, each and all, and when you come 
back you shall eat your buckwheat fritters. ' Quod erat 
demonstrandu'/n.'' " 

"A very probable solution," said Parson Buchanan. 
" You are a trump." 

"Now," said Brother Blair, "what do you make of 
this other conundrum: 

" ' One a me newry Ochra Ann, 
Mulberry wax and tarry tan ; 
Giscum, garricum — very good time; 
Humblum bumblum — twenty-nine.' 

" This I give you as a study. When you have made 
it out, let me have the solution. I have worked it out, 
but I defy you to do it." 



CHAPTER XIL 

DEATH OF WILLIAM BLAIR.— SERMON BY PARSON 

BUCHANAN. 

LIFE is checkered with pleasant and with mournful 
scenes. Though it is often said that they are nearly 
evenly balanced, yet if we will only pause and think for 
a moment, the memory of joys that are past will generally 
more than counterbalance the woes. 

The poet hath truly said that "the memory of these 
joys is mournful to the soul." It is mournful because 
we know the scenes will never return, and in many in- 
stances the actors are gone, and we shall see them no 
more. But the scenes were pleasant and the actors be- 
loved, and we remember them with pleasing en:otions. 
Similar scenes will come in their places, new friends will 
spring up, and we shall enjoy more happiness than pain. 
As we grow older we will have to lament 

" Friendships that now in death are hushed, 
And fond affection's broken chain." 

But God has so constituted our natures that, however 
deep our grief, the hand of time will wipe away our tears. 
We are led to these remarks by occurrences that are 
taking place in the hitherto cheerful home of Parson 
Blair. We have said in a preceding chapter that his 
little son William had been sick for a long time, growing 
gradually worse, yet oft times reviving, and with the 
wonderful recuperative energy of youth, seeming to be 
almost w^ell, when a sudden change in the weather, or 



DEATH OF WILLIAM BLAIR. 183 

somethin*^ disagreeing with liim, would throw him again 
to the very brink of the grave. The child was but eight 
years of age, of uncommon intellect, and of a very cheer- 
ful disposition. He was afflicted with an exceedingly 
painful disease, and suffered at intervals excessive agony. 
This had continued nearly eighteen months. His attenu- 
ated frame indicated his sufferings, and he had wasted 
away until he was a mere shadow. His bright eyes 
sparkled with flashes, which assured you of an active, 
restless mind and vivid imagination, and he would some- 
times talk with great animation, and a vigor of thought 
far beyond his years. 

On the occasion to which we refer, Parson Buchanan 
called to see him, and as he was about entering the apart- 
ment, he found Dr. James D. McCaw just coming out. 
The Dr. had u sad countenance, and when asked after his 
patient, said: "Mr. Buchanan, it is a mournful thought; 
he is a tine boy, but I must tell you his days are numbered. 
Dr. Foushee has been here with me to-day. We have 
done the best we could, but he is sinking fast, and oc- 
casionally his mind is becoming flighty. We are only 
giving stimulants now to bolster him up a few hours 
longer. Go in, sir; you will fin J his father and mother 
in deep distress." 

The good man gently entered. He shook hands cor- 
dially with both of the afflicted parents, and saw the big 
tears standing in their eyes, each attempting to conceal 
them from the other. He walked up to the bed, and 
with a cheerful tone and countenance, in which kindness 
beamed with encouragement and hope, said : " Willie, 
dear, how do you feel this morning ?" 

He looked up in the old gentleman's face : " Grandpa, 
is it you ?" 

" Yes, dear. I hope Grandpa's little boy feels better 
to-day." 



ISl THE TWO PARSONS. 

" Grandpa, I can't sleep ; the nights are so long and I 
get so tired. Grandpa, don't you want to go to heaven ? 
I do. Mamma says there is no night there. I want to go 
where there is no night." 

"God is the light of heaven," said the good man; "it 
is all day there ; but He has placed us here, my boy, and 
we must be contented to live till He calls us." 

" Oh ! but, Grandpa, He has called me. I heard some- 
thing whispering to me," and he lowered his voice to a 
whisper, " ' Come up here, Willie.' " 

And then his mother said : " Willie, dear, you must 
not talk so much, you are too weak ; you know the doctor 
said you must be quiet." 

The good man took a seat by the bedside, and Willie's 
eyes brightened up. " Grandpa, I heard you say once, 
before God's throne in heaven there was a sea of glass. 
Is that for God to see through to look at everything down 
here ? I can hear Him whispering now. Hold your ear 
here. Grandpa." And he whispered in his ear, " Willie, 
come up and see the glass." Then he stopped and gasped 
for breath. 

The good man felt for his pulse, but it was im 
perceptible. Parson Blair came to his side and looked 
anxiously at him. He raised his eyes to heaven and went 
to his seat. The mother came and gave him a stimulant. 
He revived and the pulse fluttered, but he remained 
motionless. She looked at him a Ions; time, then sat down 
on the foot of the bed and sobbed aloud. His father 
placed his handkerchief over bis eyes, and his whole 
frame shook. Parson Buchanan still kept his hand on the 
pulse. There was deep silence. The spirit seemed to 
plume its wings for flight, and then it paused. 

"Grandpa," (in a fainter tone), "did yoa see them? 
Did you. Grandpa ?" 

" Wiio, dear ?" said the good man. 



DEATH OF WILLIAM BLAIR. 185 

" Wings ! Faces of light ! eyes of stars ! They are 
whispering, 'Little lamb, come with us.' Grandpa, you 
carry me in your arms. I would love to go with you." 

The old gentleman stooped down and kissed his lips. 
Oh, how cold ! 

The poor little fellow exerted all his remaining strength, 
and put his arms around the good man's neck, and his 
pure soul winged its way to heaven. 

The devout Christian looked above: "O God, receive 
this cherub to Thyself." 

There was a wail from the fond mother's heart. There 
was a convulsive shudder in the father's frame. That 
prayer told him too well his Willie was gone. 

Sister Adams softly came in^w^ent to the bed, gently 
closed his eyes, and laid his little hands across his breast- 
She touched her mourning sister's hand; they fell into 
each other's arms and passed into the next room. 

Parson Buchanan took the hand of the bereaved father 
and pressed it in deepest sympathy. "It is natural, 
brother, that we should mourn the loss of so sweet a boy. 
But you have been taught to know that such spirits 'are 
as the angels of God.' The sweet boy's wish is gratified. 
'I want to go,' he said, 'where there is no night;' and 
God hath heard the voice of the lad. 'When Reuben 
returned to the pit to look for Joseph, and found him not, 
he rent his clothes, and said, The child is not; and I, 
whither shall I go V Ah ! it was a natural exclamation. 
Jacob, too, 'rent his clothes, and put sackcloth upon his 
loins, and mourned for his son many days, and refused to 
be comforted, saying, I will go down into the grave unto 
my son mourning.' But it shows how little we know of 
God's ways. Joseph lived to save his father and his 
brethren from starvation, and became great in the sight 
of God and man. I can say, as Jesus did to the noble- 
man, with perfect assurance, ' Thy son liveth.' We will 
12 



186 THE TWO PARSONS. 

mourn nevertheless, and yet it would be better to say 
with David, ' He is dead, wherefore should I fast ? Can 
I bring him back again ? I shall go to him, but he shall 
not return to me.' " 

There was something so sweet and mournful in the 
tones of the voice, so comforting in the reminiscences the 
good brother called up, that it brought consolation to the 
bereaved heart. Parson Blair looked up and said: 
"Brother Buchanan, such sympathy has been ever dear 
to me in all the trials of life. I can say with a fervent 
spirit, God's will be done. ' The Lord gave, and the 
Lord hath taken away : blessed be the name of the Lord.' " 

In the course of the evening our old friend Robert 
Poore, the undertaker, passed through the apartments to 
the bed on which our little Willie lay neatly shrouded, 
looking as calm as when alive in sweet repose. His 
office was soon performed. The next morning a plain 
walnut coffin coniined the mortal remains of the beloved 
boy, and on it the little children of the neighborhood 
placed a sweet wreath of evergreens and white roses, in 
token of his purity and immortality. He was buried in 
the old grave-yard on Church Hill, Parson Buchanan 
officiating at the service, and making a most feeling and 
pathetic address. There his mortal body reposes until 
" we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling 
of an eye, at the last trump." The- immortal spirit has 
gone " where infinite day excludes the night, and pleasm^es 
banish pain." 

The following letter of sympathy was received from 
his friend, William Munford: 

"To THE Rev. J. D. Blair: 

" My Dear Friend : I sympathize mth you for the loss 
of your dear boy with lieartfelt emotion. I would give 
you all the consolation in my power, but what can I say 



DEATH OF WILLIAM BLAIR. 187 

to a minister of the Gospel, wlio knows that in holy wait 
he has the example of the good and the wise who were 
afflicted by similar losses. You, wiio have given consola- 
tion to so many under deepest afflictions, will know 
whence to derive.comfort under your bereavement. Grieve 
you will — you must ; nature will require it ; but I know 
you will be able to say : 

' Oh ! pardon my weakness when nature's full sway 

To sadness my soul would resign ! 
Instruct me, whatever Thy will, to obey. 
And never at woes to repine.' 

Your affliction must be softened by the reflection that 
Christ has said, 'Suifer the little children to come unto 
Me, and forbid them not, for of such is tlic kingdom of 
heaven.' 

" Your sincere friend, 

"W. M." 

Time sped onward. Friends came with kind sympathy, 
the business cares of life, the necessity of rousing himself 
from his sorrow to attend to his ministerial duties, the 
soothing influence of holy writ, the prayerful utterances 
of the softened heart — all liad their influence in restoring 
the mind to its wonted peace, and his cheerful nature 
made him mingle once more with his friends. 

In the meantime, he composed the following sweet and 
touching elegy on the death of his son : 

" By the muse I have often been led 

Into scenes that were pleasing and gay; 
And by turns I have sung of the dead. 
While with tears I bedewed the sad lay. 



188 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" I have comforted parents that wept 

For dear children consigned to the tomb ; 
For I told them the grave, where they slept, 
Was a refuge from evils to come. 

" Thus I soothed their sorrows to rest, 
Distress'd their affliction to see; 
ISTow of you, my dear friends, I request 
To do the same office for me. 

" Do you ask me my sorrows to state ? 
Your sympathy why I implore ? 
Ah, me ! it is sad to relate — 

My Willie — my Willie's no more. 

" He has bid me a final adieu ; 
Yet this is not all that I bear, 
For the tears of a fond mother, too, 
Increase the affliction thev share. 

" To give consolation I try. 

And wipe off the tears as they flow ; 
But alas ! a poor comforter I, 

Sore wounded myself by the blow. 

•" Be it yours, then, her grief to restrain ; 
Go tell her to comfort her heart; 
We shall see our dear William again, 
Altho' for the present we part. 

*'Thus accost her with tidings of joy; 
Go, tell her her William 's at rest. 
Ah, methinks I can see the dear boy 
Keclining on Abraham's breast. 



DEATH OF WILLIAM BLAIR. ISO- 

" In the grave for a while he must lie, 
But in peace and in silence profound, 
That when Jesus shall call from the sky^ 
He may instantly wake at the sound. 

" With his cousins departed before, 
Again he shall live ere it's long, 
And in heaven, where death is no morCy 
Together praise God in their song. 

" Meanwhile, then, dear William, adieu, 
Thy father now bids thee farewell ; 
But thy grave he will often review. 
And on thy dear memory dwell. 

" To my heart he was ever most dear, 

Aifectionate always and mild ; 

Of affliction he had a great share. 

Which still more endeared the sweet child. 

" He was brought to my mind by a lamb 
I early this morning espied, 
As the innocent stood by its dam, 
And attempted to feed by her side. 

" By a plaint, too, I heard from the groves, 
A likeness I found for ray son ; 
Yes, his heart was as mild as the dove's 
His brown hair as soft as its down 



V, _ 



" Last night, and methinks it is strange 

That the night such illusions should bring, 
He came 'a good morn' to exchange, 
And I took him away to the spring. 



190 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" 'Tis thither we used to repair, 

When the night to the morning gave place ; 
There we sauntered awhile in the air, 
Then back to the house in a race. 

" I shall never forget while I live 

His childlike manoeuvres and art — 
How the dear little fellow would strive 
For more than his odds in the start. 

" In the morning I went to the spout, 

Though I knew that it was but a dream. 
Yet for William aloud I called out. 

Then mingled my tears with the stream. 

" Remembrance of joys that are gone ! 
Oh, how thou afflictest my heart ! 
Could not death, when he pierced my dear son, 
Obliterate thee with his dart ? 

^' But to murmurs I will not give way, 
Nor repine at the will of the Lord ; 
He gave, and has taken away, 

And His name be for ever adored." 



SEKMON BY PARSON BUCHANAN. 191 



SERMON BY PARSON BUCHANAN. 

THE HOUSE OF MOURNING TO BE PREFEREED TO THE 
HOUSE OF FEASTING. 



'• It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the 
house of feasting." — Eccles. vii. 2. 

Many of the maxims contained in this book will appear 
strange sayings to the men of the world. But when thej 
reflect on the character of him who delivers them, they 
cannot but admit that his tenets deserve a serious and 
attentive examination. For they are not the doctrines of 
a pedant, who, from an obscure retirement, declaims 
against pleasures he never knew. They are not the in- 
vectives of a disappointed man, who takes revenge upon 
the world by satirizing those enjoyments which he sought 
in vain to obtain. They are the conclusions of a great 
and prosperous prince, who had once given full scope to 
his desires, who was thoroughly acquainted with life in 
its most flattering scenes, and who now, reviewing all 
that he had enjoyed, delivers to us the result of long ex- 
perience and tried wisdom. None of liis principles seem, 
at first view, more dubious and exceptionable than those 
which the text presents. To assert that sorrow is prefer- 
able to mirth, and the house of mourning to the house of 
feasting ; to advise men to choose mortification and sad- 
ness when it is in their power to indulge in joy, may ap- 
pear* harsh and unreasonable doctrines. They may, per- 
haps, be accounted enemies to the innocent enjoyment of 
life who give countenance to so severe a system, and 
thereby increase the gloom which already sits suflicieutly 
heavy on the condition of man. But let this censure be 



192 THE TWO PARSONS. 

suspended until we examine with care into the spirit and 
meaning of the sentiments here delivered. 

It is evident that the wise man does not prefer sorrow, 
upon its own account, to mirth, or represent sadness as a 
state more eligible than joy. He considers it in the light 
of discipline only. He views it with reference to an end. 
He compares it with certain improvements which he 
supposes it to produce when the heart is made better by the 
sadness of the countenance, and the living are led to lay 
to heart what is the end of all men. Now, if great and 
lasting benefits are found to result from occasional sad- 
ness, these, sure, may be capable of giving it the prefer- 
ence to some fleeting sensations of joy. The means which 
he recommends in order to our obtainina; those benefits 
are to be explained according to the principles of sound 
reason, and to be understood with those limitations which 
the eastern style in delivering moral precepts frequently 
requires. He bids us go to the house of mourning, but 
he does not command us to dwell there. When he pre- 
fers sorrow to laughter, he is not to be understood as 
prohibitmg all mirth, as requiring us to wear a perpetual 
cloud on our brow, and to sequestrate ourselves from 
every cheerful entertainment of social life, Such an in- 
terpretation would be inconsistent with many other ex- 
hortations in his own writings, which recommend tem- 
perate and innocent joy. It would not suit with the 
proper discharge of the duties which belong to us as 
members of society, and would be most opposite to the 
goodness and benignity of our Creator. The true scope 
of his doctrine in this passage is, that there is a certain 
temper and state of heart which is of far greater conse- 
quence to real happiness than the habitual indulgence 
of giddy and thoughtless mirth ; that for the attainment . 
and cultivation of this temper, frequent returns of grave 
reflection are necessary ; that, upon this account, it is 



SERMON BY PARSON BUCHANAN, 193 

profitable to give admission to those views of human dis- 
tress which tend to awaken such reflection in the mind ; 
and that thus, from the vicissitudes of sorrow, which we 
either experience in our own lot, or sympathize with in 
the lot of others, much wisdom and improvement may be 
derived. 

Among the variety of dispositions which are to be 
found in the world, some, indeed, require less of this dis- 
cipline than others. There are persons whose tender and 
delicate sensibility, either derived from nature or brought 
on by repeated attlictions, renders them too deeply sus- 
ceptible of every mournful impression ; whose spirits stand 
more in need of being supported and cheered than of 
being saddened by the dark views of human life. In 
such cases, we are commanded to lift up the hands which 
hano; down, and to confirm the feeble knees. But this is 
far from being the common disposition of men. Their 
minds are in general inclined to levity, much more than 
to thoughtful melancholy, and their hearts more apt to 
be contracted and hardened than to relent with too much 
facility. I shall therefore endeavor to show them what 
bad inclinations their compliance with Solomon's advice 
would correct ; what good dispositions, with respect to 
God, their neighbors, and themselves, it w^ould improve ; 
and how, upon the whole, his doctrine is verified, that by 
the sadness of the countenance the heart is made 
better. 

I begin by observing, that the temper recommended 
in the text suits the present constitution of things in this 
world. Had man been destined for a course of undis- 
turbed enjoyment, perpetual gaiety would then have cor- 
responded to his state, and pensive thought have been an' 
unnatural intrusion. But in a state where all is chequered 
and mixed, wdiere there is no prosperity without a reverse, 
and no joy w^ithout its attending griefs, where from the 



194 THE TWO PARSONS. 

house of feasting all must, at one time or other, pass into 
the house of mourning, it were equally unnatural if no 
admission were given to grave reflection. The mind of 
man must be attempered to his condition. Providence, 
whose wisdom is conspicuous in all its works, has adjusted 
with exact proportion the inward powers to the outward 
state of every rational being. It has for this purpose 
implanted in us the serious and sympathetic feelings, that 
they might correspond with the vicissitudes of sorrow in 
our lot. He who endeavors to repel their influence, or 
to stifle them in unseasonable mirth, acts a violent and 
unnatural part, contradicts the intentions of his Maker, 
and counteracts the original impulses of his own heart. 

It is proper also to observe, that as the sadness of the 
■countenance has in our present . situation a proper and 
natural place, so it is requisite to the true enjoyment of 
pleasure. Worldly and sensual men often remark not, 
till it is too late, that, by the studied efforts of constant 
repetition, all their pleasures fail. They draw them off 
so close to the dregs that they become insipid and 
nauseous. Hence, even in laughter, their heart is sorrow- 
ful, and the end of their mirth is heaviness. It is only 
the interposal of serious and thoughtful hours that can 
give any lively sensation to the returns of joy; tliat is, 
wdien the mind retreats into itself, and is open to the 
sentiments of religion and humanity. Such serious hours 
give to the temperate enjoyments of the pious and humane 
a refined and delicate relish to which the hardened and 
insensible are entire strangers. For it will be found, that 
in proportion as the tender affections of the soul are kept 
awake, how much soever they may sometime distress the 
heart, they preserve'it open likewise to the most agree- 
able sensations. He who never knew the sorrows of 
friendship never also knew its joys. He whose heart 
cannot relent in the house of mourning, will, in the most 



SEKMON BY PARSON BUCHANAN. 195 

social hour of the house of feasting, partake of no more 
than the lowest part of animal pleasure. 

Having premised these observations, I proceed to point 
out the direct eifects of a proper attention to the distresses 
of life upon our moral and religious character. 

In the first place, the house of mourning is calculated 
to give a proper check to our natural thoughtlessness and 
levity. The indolence of mankind, and their love of 
pleasure, spread through all characters some degree of 
aversion to what is grave and serious. They grasp at any 
object, either of business or amusement, which makes the 
present moment pass smoothly away, which carries their 
thoughts abroad, and saves them from the trouble of re- 
flecting on themselves. If some measures ought to be 
taken for rescuing the mind from this disgraceful levity, 
if some principles must be acquired which may give more 
dignity and steadiness to conduct, where, I pray you, are 
these to be looked for? Not, surely, in the house of 
feasting, where every object flatters the senses and 
strengthens the seductions to which we are already prone, 
where the spirit of dissipation circulates from heart to 
heart, and the children of folly mutually admire and are 
admired. It is in the sober and serious house of mourn- 
ing that the tide of vanity is made to turn, and a new 
direction given to the current of thought. When some 
affecting incident presents a strong discovery of the de- 
'ceitfulness of all worldly joy, and rouses our sensibility to 
human woe; when we behold those with whom we had 
lately mingled in the house of feasting sunk by some of 
the sudden vicissitudes of life into the vale of misery ; or 
when, in sad silence, we stand by the friend whom we 
had loved as our own soul, stretched on the bed of death ; 
then is the season when the world begins to appear in a 
new light; when the heart opens to virtuous sentiments, 
and is led into that train of reflection which ought to 



196 THE TWO PARSONS. 

direct life. He wlio before knew not what it was to 
commune w^ith his heart on any serious subject, now puts 
the question to himself, for what purpose he was sent 
forth into this mortal, transitory state, what his fate is 
likely to be when it concludes, and what judgment he 
ought to form of those pleasures which amuse for a little, 
but which he now sees cannot save the heart from anguish 
in the evil day. Touched by the hand of thoughtful 
melancholy, that airy edifice of bliss Avhich fancy had 
raised up for him vanishes away. He beholds in the 
place of it the lonely and barren desert, in which, sur- 
rounded with many a disagreeable object, he is left 
musing upon himself. The time which he has misspent, 
and the faculties which he has misemployed, his foolish 
levity and his criminal pursuits, all rise in painful pros- 
pect before him. That unknown state of existence into 
whicli race after race of the children of men pass, strikes 
his mind with solemn awe. Is there no course by which 
he can retrieve his past errors ? Is there no superior 
power to which he can look up for aid ? Is there no 
plan of conduct which, if it exempt him not from sorrow, 
can at least procure liim consolation amidst tlie distress- 
ful exigencies of life ? Such meditations as these, sug- 
gested by the house of mourning, frequently produce a 
change on the whole character. They revive those sparks 
of goodness which were nigh being quite extinguished in 
the dissipated mind, and give rise to principles of conduct 
more rational in themselves and more suitable to the 
human state. 

In the second place, impressions of this nature not only 
produce moral seriousness, but awaken sentiments of piety 
and brino- men into the sanctuary of religion. One 
might, indeed, imagine that the blessings of a prosperous 
condition would prove the most natural incitements to 
devotion, and that when men were happy in themselves,, 



SERMON BY PARSON BUCHANAN. 197 

and saw nothing but happiness around them, they could 
not fail gratefully to acknowledge that God who giveth 
them all things richly to enjoy. Yet such is their cor- 
ruption that they are never more ready to forget their 
Benefactor than when loaded with His benefits. The 
Giver is concealed from their careless and inattentive 
view by the cloud of His own gifts. WJien their life 
continues to flow in one smooth current, unruffled by any 
griefs; when they neither receive in tlieir own circum- 
stances, nor allow themselves to receive from the circum- 
stances of others, any admonitions of human instability, 
they not only become regardless of Providence, but are 
in hazard of contemning it. Glorying in their strength, 
and lifted up by the pride of life into supposed inde- 
pendence, that impious sentiment, if not uttered by the 
mouth, yet too often lurks in the hearts of many during 
their flourishing periods, " What is the Almighty that we 
should serve Him, and what profit should we have if we 
pray unto Him ?" 

If such be the tendency of the house of feasting, how 
necessary is it that, by some change in their situation, men 
should be obliged to enter into the house of moui'ning, in 
order to recover a proper sense of their dependent state ? 
It is there, when forsaken by the gaieties of the world 
and left alone with God, that we are made to perceive 
how awful His government is, how easily human great- 
ness bends before Him, and how quickly all our designs 
and measures at His interposal vanish into nothing. 
There, when the countenance is sad and the affections are 
softened by grief, when we sit apart, involved in serious 
thought, looking down as from some eminence on those 
dark clouds that hang over the life of man, the arrogance 
of prosperity is humbled, and the heart melts under the 
impressions of religion. Formerly we were taught, but 
now we see, we feel, how much we stand in need of an 



198 THE TWO PARSONS. 

I 

Almighty protector amidst the changes of this vain world. 
Our soul cleaves to Him who despises not, nor abhors 
the affliction of the afflicted. Prayer flows forth of its 
own accord from the relenting heart, that He may be our 
God, and the God of our friends in distress; that He may 
never forsake us while we are sojourning in this land of 
pilgrimage, ma}^ strengthen us under its calamities, and 
bring us hereafter to those habitations of rest where we 
and they whom we love Aiay be delivered from the trials 
which all now are doomed to endure. The discovei'ies of 
His mercy which He has made in the gospel of Christ 
are viewed with joy, as so many rays of light sent down 
from above, to dispel, in some degree, the surrounding- 
gloom. A mediator and intercessor with the Sovereign 
of the universe appear comfortable names, and the resur- 
rection of the just becomes the powerful cordial of grief. 
In such moments as these, which we may justly call 
happy moments, the soul participates of all the pleasures 
of devotion. It feels the power of religion to support 
and relieve. It is softened without being broken. It is 
full, and it pours itself forth ; pours itself forth, if we 
may be allowed to use the expression, into the bosom of 
its merciful Creator. 

Further, such serious sentiments produce the happiest 
effect upon our disposition towards our fellow creatures. 
It is a common and just observation, that they who have 
lived always in affluence and ease, strangers to the miseries 
of life, are liable to contract hardness of heart with re- 
spect to all the concerns of others. Wrapped up in them- 
selves and their own pleasures, they behold with indiffer- 
ence the most affecting scenes of distress. Habituated 
to indulge all their desires without control, they become 
impatient of the least provocation or offence, and are 
ready to trample on their inferiors, as if they were 
creatures of a different species from themselves. Is this 



SERMON BY PARSON BUCHANAN. IDO" 

an amiable temper, or such as becomes a man ? When 
appearing in others, do we not view it with much dis- 
pleasure ? When imputed to ourselves, can we avoid 
accounting it a severe reproach ? By the experience of 
distress this arrogant insensibility of temper is most 
effectually corrected, as the remembrance of our own 
sufferings naturall}^ prompts us to feel for others when 
they suffer. But if Providence has been so kind as not 
to subject us to much of this discipline in our own lot, 
let us draw improvement from the harder lot of others. 
Let us sometimes step aside from the smooth and flowery 
paths in which we are permitted to walk, in order to view 
the toilsome march of others through the thorny desert. 
By voluntary going into the house of mourning, by yield- 
ing to the sentiments it excites, and mingling our tears 
with those of the afflicted, we shall acquire that humane 
sensibility which is one of the highest ornaments of the 
nature of man. Perceiving how much the common dis- 
tresses of life place us all on a level, and render the high 
and the low, the rich and the poor, companions in mis- 
fortune and mortality, we shall learn to set no man at 
nought, and least of any our afflicted brother. 

Prejudices will be extinguished and benevolence opened 
and enlarged, when, looking around on the multitude of 
men, we consider them as a band of fellow-travellers in 
the valley of woe, where it ought to be the office of every 
one to alleviate as much as possible the common burden. 

While the vain and the licentious are revelling in the 
midst of extravagance and riot, how little do they think 
of those scenes of sore distress which are going on at 
that moment throughout the world — multitudes strno-o-lino; 
for a poor subsistence to support the wife and children 
whom they love, and who look up to them with eager 
eyes for that bread which they can hardly procure; multi- 
tudes groaning under sickness in desolate cottages, un_ 



200 THE TWO PARSONS. 

tended and unmourned : many, apparently in a better situ- 
ation of life, pining away in secret with concealed griefs ; 
families weeping over the beloved friends whom they 
have lost, or, in all the bitterness of anguish, bidding those 
who are just expiring the last adieu ! 

May we not appeal to the heart of every good man, 
nay, almost to the heart of every man who has not divested 
himself of his natural feelings, whether the admission 
of such views of human life might not, sometimes at least, 
furnish a more worthy employment to the mind than that 
mirth of fools which Solomon compares to the crackling 
of thorns under a pot, the transient bursts of unmeaning 
joy ? Those sallies of jollity in the house of feasting are 
often forced from a troubled mind. "Whereas compas- 
sionate affections, even at the time when they draw tears 
from our eyes for human misery, convey satisfaction to 
the heart. The gracious appointment of heaven has 
ordained that sympathetic pain should always be accom- 
panied with a certain degree of pleasure, on purpose that 
we miglit be more interested in the case of the distressed, 
and that by this mysterious bond man might be linked 
closer to man. Again, by accustoming ourselves to such 
serious views of life, our excessive fondness for life itself 
will be moderated, and our minds gradually formed to 
wish and to long for a better world. If we know tliat 
our continuance here is to be short, and that we are in- 
tended by our Maker for a more lasting state, and for 
employments of a nature altogether different from those 
which now occupy the busy or amuse the vain, we must 
surely be convinced that it is of the highest consequence 
to prepare ourselves for so important a change. This 
view of our duty is frequently held up to us in the sacred 
writings, and hence religion becomes, though not a morose, 
yet a grave and solemn principle, calling off the attention 
of men from light pursuits to those which are of eternal . 



SERMON BY PARSON BUCHANAN. 20 L 

moment. What is a man profited if he shall gain the 
whole world and lose his own soul ? — if he shall lead a life 
of thoughtless mirth on earth, and exclude himself from 
eternal felicity in heaven. Worldly affection and sensual 
pleasure alienate the soul from God and heaven, and de- 
ject it with slavish and unmanly fears of death. Whereas, 
by the discipline of religious seriousness, it is gradually 
loosened from the fetters of sense. Assisted to discover 
the vanity of this world, it rises above it, and in the hour 
of sober thought cultivates connection with those divine 
and immortal objects among which it is designed to dwell. 
To conclude. Wouldst thou acquire the habit of recol- 
lection and fix the principles of thy conduct ? Wouldst 
thou be led up to thy Creator and liedeemer, and be 
formed to sentiments of purity and devotion ? Wouldst 
thou be acquainted with those mild and tender affec- 
tions which delight the compassionate and the humane ? 
Wouldst thoR have the power of sensual appetites tamed 
and corrected, and thy soul raised above the ignoble love of 
life and fear of death ? Go, my brother, go — not to scenes 
of pleasure and riot, not to the house of feasting and 
mirth, but to the silent house of mourning, and adventure 
to dwell for a while among objects that will soften thy 
heart. Contemplate the lifeless remains of what once 
was fair and flourishing; bring home to thyself the 
vicissitudes of life : recall the remembrance of the friend, 
the parent, or the child whom thou tenderly lovedst ; look 
back on the days of former years, and think on the com- 
panions of thy youth who now sleep in the dust; let the 
vanity, the mutability, and the sorrows of the human estate 
rise in full prospect before thee ; and though thy counte- 
nance may be made sad, thy heart shall be made better. 



13 



CHAPTEE XIII. 

ELECTION FOR MEMBER OF CONGRESS. 

ONE of the most beautiful charaeteristics of the 
ministers of the olden time in Virginia was their 
entire freedom from the spirit of the partisan in the excit- 
ing arena of politics. We will say to their credit, that it 
rarely occurs in the South that ministers, even of the 
present day, indulge themselves in party contests or con- 
taminate their religion with the asperities and bitterness 
of political strife. Both then and now they would deem 
it sacrilegious to introduce party allusions, party prefer- 
ences, principles, prejudices or passions into their sermons; 
and they never indulge themselves in speaking of the 
administration of the government or its officials in their 
religious discourses. It is wise and proper that this 
should be so, for every congregation in a republic is com- 
posed of men of all parties. If the minister were to take 
sides with one party, he would certainly offend and excite 
the other. Heated arguments and bitter denunciations 
would inevitably be the result ; coldness would be en- 
gendered, the pastor and his flock sundered, and a bar to 
all social and free intercourse be set up, that could not 
be surmounted by invocations to forbearance and Chris- 
tian charity. 

They inculcated in the olden time in their discourses 
principles of true religion — good will to all, harmony 
among brothers, concord and goodfellowship, and frowned 
upon everything that could alienate them from holy 
matters of spiritual concern. They taught obedience to 



ELECTION FOR MEMBER OF CONGRESS. 203 

the laws, linman and divine. They discussed not the 
question, " Is it lawful to give tribute unto Caesar ?" nor 
whether the laws promulgated by Caesar were proper or 
not; but like the great Master, they proclaimed from 
their pulpits, "Render therefore unto Caesar the things 
which are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are 
God's." 

They did not profess to be more than men, and there- 
fore, in their intercourse with their fellow men, they 
heard, and, as was natural, formed their opinions of 
public acts and of public men; but to make either the 
subject of comment from the pulpit would have been 
deemed, both by themselves and their congregations, in- 
delicate, improper and entirely out of place. When any- 
thing in the management of public affairs displeased them, 
they discussed it in private, without reference to it in the 
pulpit. 

To show how our Parsons thought and acted on such 
occasions, we would mention that a correspondence in 
Latin passed between them on this subject. ^ 

In those days, as we have said, party spirit was at its | 
height, and there was a rancour and bitterness between 
the Republicans (as the Democrats were then called) and 
the Federalists which could not be surpassed. Mr. 
Jefferson was the exponent of Republican views, Mr. 
John Adams of the Federal, and each was maligned and 
abused by the followers of the other with an antipathy 
that almost prevented intercourse between political oppo- 
nents, even in private. It pervaded all classes, and it is 
not wonderful, therefore, that ministers, under such cir- 
cumstances, sometimes among friends made allusions to ^ 
the subject. ^ 

We have seen in these pages that in the private inter- 
course of our good brothers, the subject, when alluded 
to, was treated as a jest, and always in the best possible 



204 THE TWO PARSONS. 

humor. The embargo and non-intercourse measures of 
Mr. Jefferson's administration were peculiarly hateful to 
the Federal party ; they looked upon them as the im- 
perious decrees of a tyrant, and there was nothing that 
could be said too violent or too acrimonious against the 
head of the administration. 

Our friend Parson Buchanan, however, set an example 
worthy of imitation. He said he made it an invariable 
rule never to introduce the subject of politics among hi& 
parishioners, and never to be drawn into discussion by 
them. He preferred to be a listener ; and on occasions, 
when contentions arose, he endeavored, as far as practi- 
cable, to impose upon himself the habit of silence, or to 
allay the irritation between the disputants. When ap- 
pealed to by either or both, he would answer, it was not 
the part of a Christian minister to take sides in political 
controversies. "The truth is," he would say, "you can 
never agree as to your facts. What one asserts the other 
positively denies ; and you only believe such facts as suit 
your own views. A calm observer, who is not carried 
away by passion, may extract good from both sides, and 
frequently sees a great deal of bad to which both are 
utterly blind. As a general rule, the bad men constitute 
the majority, and of course the good men are in the 
minority. At any rate, the minority are those who rail 
at the majority; l^ut when the minority happens to be- 
come the majority, then the matter is not mended, for 
they in turn become the party denounced. For my own 
part, I can understand and believe that a political oppo- 
nent may be actuated by the most honest and patriotic 
motives. The matters upon which politicians differ are 
often of the most difficult and delicate nature, upon which 
men may justly differ; and because my friend happens 
to be opposed to me he does not necessarily become an 
enemy of his country. It is better to believe that both 



ELECTION FOR MEMBER OF CONGRESS. 205 

of US are aiming to accomplish what is for the best in- 
terests of the country." With these general views he 
would content himself. Parson Blair, being more mer- 
curial, would sometimes indulge in a little bitterness and 
severity, but then immediately turn it off with some kind 
or humorous remark, as if he regretted such things should 
have escaped his lips. 

In consequence of the war between Napoleon and 
Great Britain, the commerce of the United States suffered 
greatly, and was virtually suspended, both with France 
and England, as well as with the rest of Europe. The 
celebrated orders of council of Great Britain, declaring 
the ports of Europe under the control of France in a 
state of blockade, thus authorizing the capture of Ameri- 
can vessels bound to those ports, caused the counteracting 
policy of Napoleon, and induced him to issue his no less 
celebrated Berlin decrees, by which he not only declared 
Great Britain to be in a state of blockade, and all inter- 
course suspended, but forbade the introduction of any 
English goods into the Continent of Europe. Upon 
which England retaliated by declaring the wliole coast of 
Europe in a state of blockade, and prohibited neutrals 
altogether from trading with the Continent. Napoleon 
tlien issued his Milan decree, which confiscated not only 
the vessels of neutrals which should touch at an English 
port, but such as should submit to be searched. This 
condition of things proved most disastrous to American 
commerce. 

Upon this Congress declared an embargo or prohibition 
to American ships to leave their ports. But not hav- 
ing a navy sufficient to enforce the embargo, they had re- 
course to the expedient of interdicting trade and inter- 
course with both France and England. 

These laws having been approved by Mr. Jefferson 
during his administration, all the odium of these measures 



206 THE TWO PARSONS. 

attached to him and the Kepublican party, of which he 
was the exponent. 

This was the origin of the embargo and non-intercourse 
laws. We have given this brief review to explain the 
excitement and bitter feeling that ' existed at the time of 
which we are writing. The Federalists denounced the 
measures as unmitigated tyranny. The Kepublicans 
thought the time had not yet arrived for war, but began 
to place the country in condition to meet it if it must 
come. Mr. Rutherfoord, therefore, though knowing Mr. 
Buchanan's disinclination to be drawn into political mat- 
ters, ventured, as a, feu d^esprii, to write him an anonymous 
letter, to let off a little of his vwn steam, — a letter couched 
in Latin, and purporting to be written by Sallust. It 
was sent by Parson Blair's old servant Faris, which 
caused Parson Buchanan to suppose it was sent by Parson 
Blair, or at any rate with his knowledge and consent. 

The answer, marked as it was with good sense, great 
liberality and much latent humor, shows that he thought 
there was too much bitterness and acerbity in the politics 
of the day. He said it is certain that an embargo ought 
to be imposed on the pens of those who persecute the 
best men, and who, by stimulating a discussion of such 
matters between a pastor and his flock, would thereby 
establish a non-intercourse between them, and interrupt 
the harmony and brotherly love that ought to prevail. 
He tells them emphatically to attend to their own busi- 
ness, and permit him to manage his without mingling in 
such troublous waters. We have referred to these letters 
to show this displeasure and dissatisfaction, particularly 
as they were written by warm personal friends. It 
checked the effort to draw liim into the maelstrom, and 
left him free to attend to the more important work of 
good-will and charity to all. We commend his course as 
both prudent and wise. 



ELECTION FOR MEMBER OF CONGRESS. 207 

On the perusal of this letter, Parson Blair sent to Par- 
son Buchanan a poetical answer in Latin. Parson Blair 
tells him his letter is most excellent and highly approved. 
He tells him he is mistaken in supposing that he either 
instigated the writer, or was aider or abetter in sending 
it; and passes a high eulogium upon Parson Buchanan 
for his Christianity, his learning and the fascination of 
his writings ; for his genius and virtue ; and concludes by 
saying that, for all these reasons, he is happy to be con- 
sidered as his friend. It is true, he says he grieves in 
silence over the administration of public aifairs, and there 
is no doubt that he thought it a mal-administration. Yet 
he concurs that it is better for pastors not to mingle in 
these strifes. It is better to set an example of quiet repose. 

Some of the actors in the s(;enes of the present day, 
and some of the shining lights wlio lead them, might find 
many things worthy of study and application in the quiet,, 
calm, serene characters of our venerable pastors, and 
might imitate them with advantage to themselves, their 
flocks, and the country at large. 

The views of both of our pastors on these subjects were 
so different from those entertained and acted upon by 
some other divines of the days of which we are writing, 
that they are worthy of notice. They thought it their 
duty to preach politics in and out of the pulpit, and de- 
nounced the administration and their opponents of the 
Kepublican, then the Democratic party, in the most viru- 
lent manner. A great many sermons were preached 
against Mr. Jefferson, and disseminated broadcast over 
the land. Our good parsons, on the contrary, thought 
that, if any embargo should be imposed, it ought to be on 
the pens of those who persecuted the best men with 
slanders. Notwithstanding these opinions the excitement 
was so great at the time it was almost impossible to avoid 
being drawn into the whirlpool. A most animated con- 



208 THE TWO PAES0N8. 

test took place between the two parties at the election of 
a member of Congress from the Kichmond district. The 
candidates were John Marshall, who had been minister 
to France and secretary of state nnder Mr. Adams, and 
John Clopton, an eminent member of the bar; each the 
exponent of the principles of his party. Their success 
or defeat involved what each party believed the wellbeing 
and future prosperity of the country. It was believed 
the contest would l)e very close. The parties were drilled 
to move together in a body ; and the leaders and their 
business committees were never surpassed in activity and 
systematic arrangement for bringing out every voter. 
Sick men were taken in their beds to the polls ; the halt, 
the lame and the blind, were hunted up, and every mode 
of conveyance was mustered into service. 

The election had progressed until a short time after 
dinner, when the vote exhibited a tie. The committees 
were continually bringing in their men; and as one man 
would vote for Marshall, another on the opposite side 
would immediately give a plumper for Clopton. Liquor 
in abundance was on the court green for the friends of 
either party. A ban-el of whiskey for all, with the head 
knocked in, and the majority took it straight. Indepen- 
dent of the political excitement, the liquor added fuel to 
the flame. Fights became common, and every now and 
then there would be a knock-down and drag-out affray, 
to quell which required all the power of the county 
justices. 

In those days there were no precinct elections. All 
the voters of a county assembled at the court house, and 
the crowd was frequently excessive. On this occasion it 
was almost impossible to obtain ingress or egress to and 
from the polls. In truth, none could enter but a voter, 
and he only with the greatest difficulty. The candidates, 
as was then the custom, were seated on the justice's 



ELECTION FOR MEMBEK OF CONGRESS. 209 

bench, and it was usual, when a vote was cast, for the 
candidate in question to return thanks.-^ Sometimes, "I 
thank you, sir." Sometimes, " May you live a thousand 
years," etc. There were several noisy, impudent fellows, 
who made comments on the voters as they came up — 
sometimes amusing, sometimes insulting ; and then the 
partisans of each would make the welkin ring with their 
exhilarating huzzas and animated retorts. As the scene 
waxed hot and furious, the committees examined their 
list to ascertain who had not voted. It was soon found 
that Parsons Blair and Buchanan were among the de- 
linquents. Some of the most influential and leading men 
immediately took carriages and hurried to bring them to 
the polls. It so happened they were together at Parson 
Blair's. Several gentlemen — their intimate and personal 
friends — had called at different times during the day, 
requesting them to vote, but ineffectually, each insisting 
that it was better for ministers of the gospel not to in- 
terfere in such matters. But at last, when the leading 
men of the Federal connnittee came and urged them as a 
duty which they owed their country to vote ; that the 
salvation of the party depended upon it, and the great in- 
terests of the country demanded it ; after first a peremp- 
tory refusal on the part of Parson Buchanan, and then, 
upon continued pressure by the committee, a partial 
yielding on the part of Parson Blair, upon condition that 
Parson Buchanan would go, both assented, and were es- 
corted to the carriages, and finally managed to be elbowed 
and squeezed up to the polls. Mr. Marshall had a few 
minutes before been two votes ahead, then amid the 
fiercest excitement, Clopton had made up the gap, and 
was one ahead of him. 

There were shoutings and hurrahs perfectly deafening. 
Men were shaking fists at each other, rolling up their 
sleeves, cursing and swearing, with angry and furious 



210 • THE TWO PAKSONS. 

denunciations. Some became wild with aoitation. Then 
came Mr. Thomas Rutherfoord and voted for Marshall, 
and there was again a tie. One fellow growled out an 
imprecation, and another replied, "You, sir, ought to 
have your mouth smashed for your impudence." The 
crowd rolled to and fro like a suro-inp" wave. Parson 
Blair came forward. A swaggering fellow just above 
him said, "Here comes two preachers, dead shot for 
Marshall." Both candidates knew them intimately, and 
rose from their seats, and the shout was terrific. 

"Mr. Blair," said the sheriff, "who do you vote for ?" 
"John Marshall," said he. Mr. Marshall replied, "your 
vote is appreciated, Mr. Blair." Another fellow cried 
out, " bring out the Darby town boys. The Darbys have 
another shot in the locker. 1 see you, old Thorn, you 
are the devil to plump the Parson." And old Thom 
came pushing and elbowing with a howl ; l)ut Parson 
Buchanan was at the sheriff's elbow. 

The whole Federal party, and the Democrats too, 
thought this vote was certain, beyond the possibility of 
a doubt, for Marshall. " Who do you vote for, Mr. 
Buchanan?" "For John Clopton," said the good man. 
Mr. Clopton said, "Mr. Buchanan, I shall treasure 
that vote in my memory. It will be regarded as a 
feather in my cap for ever." The shouts were astound- 
ing. Hurrah for Marshall ! Hurrah for Clopton ! The 
astonishment expressed in Mr. Marshall's face, in Parson 
Blair's countenance, by the friends of Mr. Buchanan gen- 
erally, can only be imagined. 

Then old Thom Enroughty (the whole family of 
Enroughtys were universally called Darbys) shouted out, 
"I'll go with that Parson, Clopton! I was going to 
swear, but I won't, because I respect that old chap. 
Thank you, old fellow. Hm-rah for Clopton !" Another 
voter cried out, " One a my neio.'''' And the vote was re- 



ELECTION FOR MEMBER OF CONGRESS. 211 

corded. "Well done, Darby," said Clopton. "Any 
more of the Darby boys ? Go it, boys !'' said Darby. 
There was a pressure from both sides. When our friends 
entered the carriage on their return home, Parson Bucha- 
nan said, " Brother Blair, we might as well have staid at 
home. When I was forced against my will to go, I sim- 
ply determined to balance your vote, and now we shall 
hear no complaints of the clergy interfering in elections." 
^}f' When the returns came in from the district it was 
found that Clopton was elected. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

DUEL BETWEEN PAESON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 



STRANGE things happen m this world, which may 
astonish at the moment, but we do not pause to con- 
sider them. When told to others, they are so strange 
that they are looked upon as exaggerations or falsehoods, 
not worthy of a passing comment. "We were riding out 
on a certain occasion with tw^o friends, one of whom was 
exceedingly absent-minded. In a short time this one, for- 
getting our presence, spurred up his horse and cantered off, 
humming to himself ; then musing awhile, he remembered 
our existence, deliberately rode back, and checking his 
horse, remarked to our companion : " William, man is a 
strange animal, I say ; I say, William, man is a s-t-r-a-n-g-e 
animal," and immediately rode off rapidly again. Now, 
if anybody doubts the proposition after this enunciation, 
it occurs to us that he does not know the meaning of 
strange. 

We are led into this strain of thought by reading a 
letter from Parson Blair to the celebrated William Wirt, 
in which he says : " It is true indeed that Parson Buch- 
anan was once challenged by Col. William Tateham. 
But this is a singular instance, and it happened many 
years ago. This Tateham told me a few days ago that 
he was justly entitled to three peerages in England, and 
moreover, when he left there he had a whole parish in 
his gift. What he meant by a whole parish in his gift, 
I did not fully comprehend ; but as to the peerages, I 
concluded that a better title kept him out of them. It 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 213 

is no wonder that this man challenged a parson to fight 
him a duel." 

To show Parson Blair's appreciation of the practice of 
duelling, we shall quote another passage from this letter. 

" I find by the papers, my dear sir, that you were very 
near entering the lists yourself ,, with a Mr. Pinckney, of 
Baltimore. I confess I cannot but shudder when I think 
what might have been the consequence if you had met 
each ©therein single combat. I thank God that you did 
not. If a man of your talents and celebrity will excuse 
me, I could wish that you were a parson, to display those 
talents in the pulpit in praise of the Redeemer and of 
His matchless grace to our ruined world. In that case 
you would be free from the imagined necessity of chal- 
lenging, and not liable to be challenged." 

Here was an opportunity to put in a word to a man of 
talents against the practice of duelling, and to invoke his 
aid in praise of the Redeemer, which he did not hesitate to 
embrace. Who knows that this good seed, sown in this 
good ground, did not bring forth its fruit in due season. 
We know, at any rate, that this shining light of the bar 
became in after years a luminary of the church ; and 
though not a parson, one who exerted his influence in 
every practicable way in acknowledging this matchless 
grace and singing praises to the Redeemer. 

But we return to the circumstance of the challenge to 
Parson Buchanan by Col. Tateham, and we shall see how 
he treated it. This Col. Tateham was a gentleman at 
one time of good intellect and high standmg; but he 
possessed a monomania on a subject which led him into 
the wildest vagaries, while on all other topics he was per- 
fectly sane. On ordinary occasions, he would not only 
converse intelligibly, but could make himself exceedingly 
agreeable. In the main, he was harmless and inoffensive; 



214 THE TWO PAES0N8. 

but as his disease increased in intensity, he became hope- 
lessly insane. 

He was fully persuaded that he was entitled to three 
peerages in England. He would descant for hours upon 
his high honors and immense wealth. Then, again, he 
cherished the belief that he had a right to a benefice, and 
was the patron to whom an advowson of the church be- 
longed, possessing this privilege under a grant from King 
George the Third. Accordingly, with a view to select 
some parson to be his rector or perpetual curate, as he 
might determine, he went to hear Parson Buchanan 
preach, and this he followed up for two or three Sundays, 
paying particular attention to his doctrine, his mode of 
inculcating it, and his arguments as drawn from the 
Bible. 

Besides this, he went about in the most cautious man- 
ner, investigating the moral character of the good man, 
after the modern manner of detectives, dogging his steps 
from house to house,' and nosing out all the little tittle- 
tattle that might be gossiped about him. After the closest 
and strictest scrutiny, he heard but one universal testi- 
mony, that this was a good and holy man, without re- 
proach. 

On one occasion he commenced his investigation by 
making inquiries of a gentleman, which the latter thought 
■derogatory to the Parson. He was instantly stopped, 
and in an angry tone informed that no such remarks 
would be permitted in his presence. With perfect com- 
posure, and in the mildest manner, he replied : " My dear 
sir, you mistake me entirely; I have the most unbounded 
confidence in Parson Buchanan, but I am in the discharge 
of a solemn duty. I have a right to present to the bishop 
the Parson as a proper person to be inducted into my 
benefice, and the bishop has the right to refuse him for 
many reasons; therefore I desire to be armed at all 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL, TATEHAM. 215 

points to meet and overcome his objections, should he 
offer any. He may object on the ground of unfitness ; 
that is, if he be an outlaw, an excommunicate, an alien, 
under age, or the like, Next, with regard to his faith or 
morals, as for any particular heresy or vice, that is, 
'"'•malum, in se^ This is good cause for refusal. But, 
you perceive, if the bishop alleges in general that he is 
schisviatimis iaveteratus, or cites a fault that is malum 
j)rohihitam merely,, as haunting taverns, playing at un- 
lawful games, or the like, it is not good cause for refusal. 
Or lastly, the person presented may be unfit to discharge 
the pastoral olfice for want of learning. In any of which 
cases he may be rejected. Can you not perceive, there- 
fore, that my motive is good ? I intend to offer this bene- 
fice to Parson Buchanan, and as a man of honor, I am 
bound to investigate all these points thoroughly. I have 
satisfied myself that he is not wanting in learning. I 
discovered, it is true, that he did go into a tavern, but it 
was to administer to the wants of a sick fi-iend. I found 
out that he played a game of drafts with Parson Blair 
one very dreary, rainy day, when he could not get home 
in the rain; but I'll overlook this peccadillo, I could not 
fix upon him any schismaticxis inveteratus^ though I have 
listened carefully to detect even an approach to heresy. 
I think I am justified in appealing to his appearance alone 
to prove he is not under age. I presume, therefore, I 
may be excusable for any inquiries I may have made. I 
am satisfied that he is the man for the place, and I shall 
call upon him this morning to ascertain if he will accept 
my offer," 

With this view, while his mind was fully occupied with 
the subject, he walked rapidly to Mr. Buchanan's oflice, 
and in a hesitating manner rapped at the door. 

" Come in," said the Parson, 

He walked in, respectfully taking off his hat, and 



216 THE TWO PARSONS. 

offered his band, saying: "I have taken the liberty to 
call upon a matter of business, and having come without 
introduction, must say that my name is William Tate- 
ham." 

" Be seated, Mr. Tateham ; I will attend to you \\dth 
pleasure.'' 

" I have been on several occasions to liear you preach ; 
I have been much pleased with the simplicity and beauty 
of your style, the clearness with which you present your 
opinions and doctrine, and the soundness, as I think, of 
your views. I hope you will excuse me, but I greatly 
admire also the simplicity of your dress, the plainness of 
the place in which you preach, and the apparent concord 
of yourself and flock, together with the harmony with 
which you and Mr. Blair unite in advancing the cause of 
God." 

"'I fear," said the Parson, "you are disposed to flatter. 
This is one of the most serious perils ministers of the gos- 
pel have to encounter ; they are constantly praised to their 
faces, and it is not often that they are even contradicted ; 
no wonder their heads are sometimes turned, and they be- 
come puffed up with vanity. I endeavor to discharge my 
duty to the best of my ability, and in such a cause there 
is no necessity for affectation, pride or vain-glory. If tlie 
heart is right and the intellect sound, the natural words 
that present themselves after due reflection are always 
the best, and in my opinion will be more apt to reach 
the conscience. Too many of o\ir public men, and even 
members of parliament, fritter away their best thoughts 
by a multiplicity of words. The sword of the Spirit is 
covered up with a fine spun cobweb that can scarcely be 
seen through." 

As soon as the w^ord pai'liament was pronounced, CoL 
Tateham became all animation ; this being a theme which 
touched every fibre of his brain, "My dear sir," said he 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 217 

excitedly, "have you ever been in parliament? Have 
you been in the House of Lords ? Are you a peer of the 
realm ? " 

" Of course not," said Parson Buchanan, " I only al- 
luded to the mode of speaking by members in delil;)erative 
bodies, and sometimes by members both of the House of 
Commons and House of Lords, whom I have heard in 
former days, and of whom I have read in more modern 
times." 

"Sir," said Tateham, with nmch assumed dignity, "you 
should have been in the House of Lords wdien I was in 
my seat." Here he stood up, raised himself to his full 
height, and put himself in position for entering into de- 
bate. " The style you speak of as so appropriate was the 
very mode I adopted in all my efforts as a peer, as the 
most effective and powerful. By this means I never 
failed to bring down the House, and even grave bishops 
would forget their dignity and unite in cheering." 

" Indeed," said the Parson, " I beg pardon ; but I was 
not aware I was in the presence of a peer of the realm." 

" Of course, my dear sir, no man would suppose that 
one who had been accumstomed to wear parliamentary 
robes of scarlet cloth, with bars of ermine to designate 
his rank w^ould be seen here in your sanctum wdth such 
a dress as I prefer now, for its simplicity. You know 
dukes are distinguished by having four ermine bars on their 
robes, and earls by three bars. Do you know sir, that 
any man convicted of spreading a scandalous report re- 
garding a peer of the realm, no matter whether true or 
false, is guilty of scandahim magnatmn, and is subject 
to an arbitrary fine, and to remain in prison until the 
fine is paid?" 

" But, my friend, what has all that to do with the busi- 
ness you had with me ?" said the Parson. 

"A great deal, sir. I was coming to the point, but it 
14 



218 THE TWO PARSONS. 

will not do in these grave matters to be hurried. It is 
essential for me to tell you that I am a duke, and have a 
thousand times been styled by my compeers, ' His Grace,' 
and the ' Most Noble,' and have had communications from 
his most gracious Majesty, King George, addressing me 
as ' Our right trusty and right entirely beloved cousin and 
councillor.' Why sir, His Grace is likewise, upon some 
occasions, entitled to l)e styled 'Most High, Potent and 
Noble Prince.' There is a dignity about a peer that can 
scarcely be comprehended by a common man. When 
arraigned even for a (iriminal offence it must be before 
his peers, who return their verdict, not upon oath, but 
upon honor." 

"But," said the Parson, beginning to think he was 
dealing with a madman, and, therefore, that it was proper 
to humor him, " To what am I indebted for the honor of 
this visit from 'Our right trusty and right entirely be- 
loved cousin and councillor.'" 

"I see, sir, you appreciate me, and, therefore, I will re- 
veal to you what I have heretofore kept secret from my 
new acquaintances. There is that in your face which in- 
duces me to believe I may trust you. You see. Parson, the 
dukedom, the most elevated dignity in the English peer- 
age, after having become extinct, was revived in the per- 
son of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, and the 
dukedom has descended regularly through the Grenvilles 
to the present Richard Plantaganet Temple, Duke of 
Cornwall and Lancaster ; Nugent-Brydges-Chandos-Gren- 
ville. Earl Temple, Viscount and Baron Cobham in the 
peerage of the United Kingdom ; Earl Nugent in the 
peerage of Ireland, K. G. and G. C. K., Knight of the 
Garter and Grand Chamberlain of the Household." 

"You say, sir," replied the Parson, "that yoti are the 
identical Richard Plantaganet Grenville." 

" Permit me, sir, to interrupt you. I said Richard 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 219 

Plantaganet Temple, Niigent-Brydges-Chandos-Grenville, 
Duke of Cornwall and Lancaster, and F. S. A." 

" I beg pardon," said the Parson. If you are that most 
high, potent and noble prince, how do you happen to pass 
by the name of Tateham ?" 

" Why, sir, it is the simplest question to answer in the 
world. There seems to be a difficulty, I admit ; but you 
see, sir, I am the actual possessor of two peerages of dif- 
ferent rank, and these entitle me to assume any name I 
please. To your luminous mind, I have no doubt, I have 
made the matter quite plain. I beg you will permit me 
to develop my title to my earldom, and then you will see 
the reason why these statements are essential to your just 
appreciation of this important business." 

"My dear sir," said the Parson, "I confess I do not 
perceive your ol)ject, or the drift of your argument; but 
you will proceed." 

"Then, sir, it becomes me to be concise, and I shall 
not go so fully into this grand theme. You will now be 
able to perceive that I am unquestionably an earl. You 
know the title of earl, which existed in England before 
the Conquest, was originally annexed to a particular tract 
of land. There were three descriptions of earldoms. 
The first, being the one through which I receive my title, 
was annexed to the seisin and possession of an entire 
county with jura regalia^ in which case the county be- 
came palatine, and the person created earl thereof ac- 
quired regal jurisdiction and royal seignory. By reason 
of the royal jurisdiction, the Earl Palatine had power 
over all the high courts and offices of justice, which the 
king had, with a civil and criminal jurisdiction, and by 
reason of his royal seignory, he had all the royal services 
and estreats also ; so that a county Palatine was in every 
respect a feudal kingdom of itself, but held of a superior 
lord. The style of an earl is 'Right Honorable,' and he 



220 THE TWO PARSONS. 

is officially addressed by the crown, ' Our right trusty and 
well-beloved cousin,' and also has the title of 'Most 
noble and puissant Prince.' In short, Parson, I am, be- 
yond the power of contradiction, Charles John Howard, 
Earl of Suffolk, and Earl of Berkshire, Yiscount Andover, 
of Andover county, Hants, and Baron Howard, of Charl- 
ton, county Wilts, and was married to Isabella, daughter 
of the late Lord Henry Molyneux Howard, who, my dear 
sir, I have had the misfortune to lose, she dying without 
issue." 

"Well then, it appears plain to my mind," said tlie 
Parson, "that you claim to be Duke of Buckingham, 
Earl of Suffolk, and many other noble names at the same 
time, whilst, like many evil disposed persons and de- 
ceivers, you pass under the alias of William Tateham. 
Now, you will pardon me for saying, as I am too plain a 
man to associate with men of your rank and immense 
wealth and power, I hope our intercourse will terminate 
with this interview." 

" I perceive," he said, carelessly, " you are like the rest 
of mankind — ^}'ou have not the discrimination to decide 
between a real and a counterfeit jewel. Yery well. I 
have schooled myself to keep cool, and to avoid anger 
and rashness, and as I came here for your good, I will,, 
without regarding your insinuation, proceed to business." 

" You are long in coming to it," said the Parson, " and 
my time is valuable." 

"Yery well, sir; I shall take a note of your remark. 
!Now, you know, for you were compelled to learn it in your 
studies for the ministry, that, in very early times, election 
was the usual mode of elevation to the Episcopal chair 
throughout all Christendom ; and this was promiscuously 
performed by the laity and clergy, till at length, it be- 
coming tumultuous, the emperors and other sovereigns of 
Europe took the appointment in some degree into their 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 221 

own hands, by reserving to themselves the right of con- 
firming these elections, and of granting investiture of 
these temporalities, without which confirmation and in- 
vestiture, the elected bishop could neither be consecrated 
nor receive anj secular profits. Then, sir, you will admit 
I am, as earl, a patron with a right of presentation to a 
benefice, and I desire to present you with any benefice in 
my gift, giving you the right of selection at any time 
within the next sixty days. The fact is, I may present 
you either as parson or vicar. A parson, you know, is 
so called from persona^ because, by his person, the church, 
which is an invisible body, is represented, and he is in 
himself a body corporate, in order to protect and defend 
the rights of the church which he personates. I will say 
to you, sir, that the appellation of parson, however it may 
be depreciated by familiar, clownish and indiscriminate 
use, is the most legal and most honorable title that a 
parish priest can enjoy, because such a one is said ' vicem 
sen personam ecclesice gerere.'' If you accept my offer, 
the bisliop will institute or invest you into the spiritual 
part of the benefice; for by institution the care of the 
souls of the parish is committed to the charge of the 
parson. After this is done, I shall be prepared to induct 
you into the corporeal possession of the church, or grant 
you investiture of the temporal part of the benefice. I 
shall do this by having a bell tolled, to give all the parish- 
ioners notice and sufiicient certainty of their new minister, 
to whom their tithes are to be paid. Now, sir, I have 
unfolded my plans and purposes, and I must solemnly 
require you to accept this charge, and permit me to put 
you in possession of this valuable benefice." Here he 
paused for a reply. 

The Parson scanned him closely, looking him full in 
the eye. Few madmen can stand this test. 

Tateham tried hard to return the stare, but his eye 



222 THE TWO PARSONS. 

quailed and turned in another direction. " I demand to 
know," he said," " will you accept this charge ?" 

"I have," said the Parson, (who had quite lost his 
patience during this rigmarole,) "listened to you with 
what forbearance I could summon from beginning to end, 
and to cut the matter short, will say unequivocally, if you 
had all you say you have in your gift, and a thousand- 
fold added, I would not accept it. I have no such am- 
bition." 

" Will you condescend so far from your dignity as to 
tell me why you will not ? Assign me a reason^ sir," 
emphasizing the word reason, and slamming his fist 
against the table with violence. 

"Sir," said the Parson, wdth great coolness, and in a 
mild tone, "I am perfectly satisfied with the position I 
now occupy, and do not desire to add to my pecuniary 
means. I have, by the blessing of the Almighty, enough 
to supply my wants." 

" You profess to be a parson, and assign to me that as 
the true reason for your rejection of my proposition, 
when you know, before God, that you do not credit my 
sincerity, my identity, or my truthfulness, and that those 
are the reigning motives that actuate you." 

"I have no hesitation in saying that the motive I as- 
signed was the one which would actuate me under any 
circumstances; and I shall not hesitate to say, in addition, 
I do not believe one word of the rigmarole and nonsense 
you have bored me with for the last hour, and not one 
word of your ability to accomplish what you propose." 

"Do you mean to say, sir, that I am not a duke or an 
earl, and that I have uttered here deliberate falsehoods V 

" I mean to say that I do not believe that there is one 
word of truth in the whole statement. You are an im- 
postor; either deceived yourself, or wilfully deceiving 
others." 



DUEL PAESON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 223 

"You are not aware of the import of yonr words, sir," 
said Tateham, gra^dl3^ " You will be called to a strict 
accountability for this language. In an hour's conversa- 
tion I have not uttered one word of truth ! I an im- 
postor! My statements a rigmarole and filled with non- 
sense ! I have bored you and made pi'opositions which I 
am not able to fulfil!" Then, rising from his seat with 
great dignity, he took his hat. "I will let you know you 
are not at liberty to treat a gentleman with indignity. I 
have stored this language in my sensorium, and you will 
hear from me further through my friend, Sir Granville 
Orville. I bid you good morning, sir," and he majesti- 
cally stalked out of the room. 

As soon as he was gone the Parson soliloquized after 
this fashion : " Well, the man is certainly a monomaniac, 
and has stored his mind with a great deal of knowledij-e 
upon the subjects which have unhinged it, and as soon as 
I discovered his delusion, I determined to keep cool and 
humor his vagaries. He uses good language, and is 
thoroughly convinced of his privileges and rights; and 
besides, it is evident he intended to do me a service, and I 
regret that I permitted myself to be roused to contradict 
him. It is hard for a man to bear a dictatorial manner, 
and to be taken to task by one whom he knows is repre- 
senting himself to be what he is not. I suffered myself 
to be roused, when reflection for a moment would have 
excited my pity. I do pity the poor man from the bot- 
tom of my heart, and if the matter were to do over again 
should humor him to the end. 

"Here is a question for casuists to decide. The pro- 
priety of admitting the truth of a statement made to you, 
when you know it to be false. The propriety of making 
an effort to undeceive a mind thoroughly possessed of a 
false belief, when contradiction only strengthens the 
belief, and brings yourself into danger." 



224 THE TWO PARSONS. 

We leave the Parson to his meditations, and to discuss 
the propriety of the exercise of his pity in a case like 
this. We happen to know that, at another time, another 
gentleman took this course, and as soon as he exhibited 
the least inclination to commiserate Col. Tatcham, he as- 
serted his dignity with tenfold aggravation, and could 
scarcely be restrained from inflicting personal chastise- 
ment upon him, for supposing that a duke or an earl 
could be cast down as low so to be the subject of pity by 
a commoner. 

We follow Col. Tateham to his own apartment, where 
we find him in consultation with his friend. Sir Grenville 
Orville, who was an ofiicer of the Englisli army, and had 
no knowledge of the actual monomania of Col. Tateham. 

The truth is, on ordinary occasions, he appeared to be 
an intellectual, high-toned man of honor, agreeable, socia- 
ble and friendly, and he had manifested his hospitality to 
Col. Orville, and loaned him a small sum of money, which 
had placed liim under obligations, rendering him more in- 
clined to aid him in the present difficulty. 

"Now," said Tateham, "permit me to lay the subject 
before you truthfully and calmly, and then, as a man of 
honor, I wish you to give me your advice. I do not 
desire to do anything liastily or in a passion, but I do not 
intend to brook an insult. I made a proposition to a 
gentleman by the name of John Buchanan, who, I admit, 
is a wortliy man — a proposition for his benefit — which he 
did not deny was so intended ; upon which, he stated in 
the most unequivocal language, that, in an hour's con- 
versation, I had not uttered one word of truth: asserting 
that I was an imposter ; that my statements were nothing 
but a rigmarole of nonsense ; that I bored him, and made 
propositions which I knew I was not able to fulfil. This 
language, I told him, I should store in my sensorium, and 
it is here," touching his forehead. "Now I ask you, as 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 225 

a man of honor, not accustomed to permit sucli language 
to be used to yourself, what ought I to do ? " 

"Are you certain," said Col. Orville, "that you have 
made no mistake in quoting his language ^ It seems to 
be very strange conduct. In what way had you insulted 
him? I must know all the facts to give you proper 
advice." 

"I know I have quoted his language almost verbatim. 
Such things are not easily effaced from my memory. The 
only thing that I can recall is, that I told him I could see 
from his manner that he had rejected my offer, because 
he did hot credit my sincerity, my identity, or my truth- 
fulness; and you know, my friend," said Col. Tateham, 
"you can tell what a man means by his manner as cer- 
tainly as by his words. If he doubted my sincerity, he 
doubted my veracity; and if he doubted my identity, 
after I had candidly told him who and what I was, of 
course he equally doubted my veracity ; and I am not the 
man to permit any one to tell me to my face that I am a 
liar." 

" Col. Tateham," said Col. Orville, " I do not see, if I 
put the case to myself, what I could do but send him a 
challenge, and demand the satisfaction which his un- 
justifiable conduct and language has given you the right 
to claim." 

"That, sir, is my unalterable determination, and I have 
only one more request to make; will you, as a military 
man, an officer in his Majesty's service, do me the favor 
to act as my friend in this matter ? I want a man of dis- 
cretion, in whose sense of what is due from one gentleman 
to another my honor will be kept unsullied. I have no 
passion in this matter, not a whit, but I intend to take 
this gentleman down a peg or two from the high-horse 
he has mounted. Will you be the bearer of my chal- 
lenge ?" 



226 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" Certainly. It will afford me pleasure," said the Colo- 
nel. "Do you want the matter brought to a speedy issue, 
or will there be any necessity for delay ?" 

" In these concerns," said Col. Tateham, " I am a 
minute man; I will brook no delay. The gentleman 
must retract, or his life or mine shall be the forfeit. I 
mean work, quick, sharp and decisive. I know he will 
have the right to select weapons ; but I am ready for any- 
thing, from a pistol to a seat together on a keg of powder, 
each with a lighted match in his hand. Of course, then, 
you will not higgle about terms. As to the place, any- 
where will answer for me." 

" I think," said Col. Orville, " I understand you per- 
fectly. There is to be a light, and no withdrawal of notes 
and that sort of diplomacy. Now, my dear sir, shall I 
draw up the challenge, or will you ?" 

" Do it yourself," said Col. Tateham. " 1 put myself 
in your hands;" and wdiile Orville took paper and pen, 
he commenced slowly pacing the floor, as if in deep 
thought. In a few minutes the following note was sub- 
mitted for approval: 

"Richmond, Ya. 
"Sir: This moi"ning, in a conversation between you 
and myself, without the slightest provocation, you in- 
sulted me most grossly, by the use of language to which 
no gentleman can submit without degradation and dis- 
honor. Your attention was called to the language, and 
you neither apologized nor retracted. I therefore de- 
mand the satisfaction usual among gentlemen under such 
circumstances. I take it for granted that this will not be 
evaded or denied. My friend, Col. Grenville Orville is- 
authorized to make the necessary arrangements. 
"I am, with due respect, your obedient servant." 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 22T^ 

Col. Tatehara took the note and solemnly read it 
through. 

" Sir," he said, " I shall not dot an i or cross a t. You 
will oblige me by carrying it forthwith." He attached 
his signature without further comment. The interview 
between Col. Tateham and Parson Buchanan, and the 
arrangements w'e have just detailed, took place in the 
morning. 

In the afternoon, when the Parson returned to his 
sanctum, and was engaged in his ecclesiastical studies, he 
was interrupted by the knock of Col. Orville. He im- 
mediately opened the door, and asked the gentleman to 
walk in. 

"Is this Mr. John Buchanan?" said Col. Orville. 

"It is, sir," was the response. 

"I am, sir, Col. Grenville Orville, of his Majesty's 
light dragoons. I have the honor of being the bearer of a 
note from Col. Wm. Tateham to you, sir." Saying this, 
he handed him the note. Col. Orville took out his watch, 
ascertained the time of day ; and whilst Parson Buchanan 
was reading the note, made a memorandum of the precise 
hour and minute when delivered. After the good man 
had perused the note, he raised his face and smiled. 

" I do not know," said he, " whether this is intended in 
jest or in earnest. The whole affair is supremely rid- 
iculous." 

" I caution you, sir," said Col. Orville, respectfully, " to 
weigh the w^ords you may use, and not characterize any- 
thing my friend Col. Tateham or I may do in this matter 
as ridiculous. You have used language already which 
has been excepted to, and I cannot permit language dis- 
respectful to my friend to be used in my presence." 

" Do you know, sir," said Parson Buchanan, " who CoL 
Tateham is ? Are you aware that he is a monomaniac ?' 



'228 THE TWO PARSONS. 

I think it probable you do not know that I ara^a minister 
of the Episcopal church ?" 

" Do you not know, sir," said Col. Orville, " that ex- 
ceptions taken to the character of the principal in matters 
of this kind — taken to his sanity or insanity — his bravery 
or cowardice, only transfers the quarrel from the principal 
to the second ? K he is a monomaniac, I am not. If he 
is in jest, I am not aware of it, and I am in dead earnest. 
You have only to accept or reject the demand made upon 
you. I am not here to bandy epithets. If you object to 
my principal, I am here to stand in his shoes. As to 
your being a minister of the Episcopal church, that is of 
no manner of consequence. If as such you cannot re- 
strain yourself from insulting a gentleman; and yet more, 
if after the insult is given, and your attention is called to 
it, you neither apologize nor retract the offensive words, 
you are and ought to be more amenable to responsibility 
than others." 

"Now, my dear sir," said our estimable friend, "I do 
not intend to be placed in a false position upon this sub- 
ject. I know, until this day you were a stranger to me ; 
and I doubt if you even know my position in society. I 
believe you are comparatively a stranger to Col. Tateham, 
and do not know his condition, for I understand he is 
very cautious at times. I am satisfied you have not had 
an opportunity to ascertain his mental delusions; and, 
therefore, I ask you to listen to me patiently. I have no 
feeling or passion in this matter. I am a man of peace. 
I am not afraid of man or any injury that man may in- 
flict on my person ; but I tell you that, in regard to my 
relations with my Maker, I am a very coward in doing 
wrong. I am afraid to violate my Master's command, 
' Thou shalt do no murder.' 'And ye know that no mur- 
derer hath eternal life abiding in him.' ' Thou shalt love 
thy neighbor as thyself.' If I kill another wilfully with 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 229' 

malice in my heart, or if I induce another to kill me, it 
is deliberate murder. Duelling involves a violation of 
the moral and divine law. It is my duty to reprobate 
this practice as a relic of barbarism. It is not based 
either on reason or justice; and on this liead I might 
urge many grounds for positively refusing this challenge. 
But the truth is, there is no just foundation for a quarrel 
or offence between Col. Tateham and myself ; and much 
less for <:»ffence between Col. Orville and myself. 

" Now, I beg you to give me your attention a little 
longer. There is one subject upon which Col. Tateham 
is a monomaniac. He maintains that he is entitled to two 
peerages in England, and requires his hearers to believe 
this statement. And then he believes that he has at- 
tached to this peerage the right of presentation, institu- 
tion and induction of a parson to any parish either in 
England or the State of Virginia. He offered me this 
parsonage, which I declined to accept, and upon inspect- 
ing my countenance he professed to have discovered that 
I doubted his whole story and the foundation upon which 
it rests; and then he demanded of me categorically, to 
admit or deny my belief in his assertions. And I as 
categorically asserted that I did not believe a word of its 
truth, that it was nothing but a figment of his brain. 
Now, does any man believe that I, a minister of the gos- 
pel, in good repute among my brethren, would be justi- 
fied in taking the life of a gentleman of diseased mind 
upon such a cause as this, or in risking my own life to 
vindicate my honor upon such a flimsy ground ? I must 
say, therefore, unequivocially, that I decline to accept the 
challenge under any and all circumstances. But I will 
say still further. Col. Orville, if you will subject Col. 
Tateham to the test of alluding to his peerages, you will 
be satisfied of the impropriety of this challenge. I have 
a pity and regard for this gentleman. He is evidently a. 



230 THE TWO PARSONS. 

man of talents and good family, and has been accustomed 
to the amenities and courtesies of good society, and from 
his pecular idiosyncrasy of n:iind is not accountable for 
his actions: I am willing, thei'efore, to humor him, and 
T3y conciliation, to restore his composure and regain his 
good opinion. You can take time to make the trial I 
recommend, and then if you concur with me and think it 
advisable, we will counsel together as to what further 
steps it may be proper to take." 

" I have listened to you patiently, sir," said Col. Orville, 
"and considering your position, which I was not aware 
of, and the candid statement you have made, which your 
manner assures me is not fictitious, I shall content my- 
self for the present with informing Col. Tateham that his 
challenge is not accepted." 

AVith this intimation. Col. Orville offered his hand and 
bade the Parson adieu. 

The next day the following note was received : 

" Friday Morning. 
" The Rev. J. Buchanan, 

" Dear Sir : It affords me pleasure to tender to you 
an apology for my conduct in our interview on yesterday. 
I have seen Col. Tateham, and upon addressing him as 
' our right trusty and right entirely beloved cousin and 
councillor, the Duke of Buckingham,' he evinced so 
clearly his monomania, that I am entirely satisfied that 
he is not responsible for his actions. I have prevailed 
upon him also to apologize to you, whicli I am authorized 
to do in the fullest manner. 1 ask to withdraw the note 
I presented on yesterday. Col. Tateham desii-es to mani- 
fest his friendship for you ; and I am sure, from your 
character, if you should accidentally meet, you will show 
him all civility. It is probable the subject will not be 
alluded to again. 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM. 231 

" Sincerely lamenting that your eqaanimity should have 
been in the least disturbed, I beg to subscribe myself, 
" Your friend and obedient servant, 

" Granyllle Orville, Col. L. DP 

We desire to add but one more incident to the circum- 
stances we have just related. 

At the time of which we are writing, there was an old 
wooden building on the south-west corner of Capitol 
Square, called the " Barracks." In this building the Pub- 
lic Guard of the State was stationed. This was a military 
company established by the General Assembly in 1801, 
at the time when the contest for the election of Mr. Jeffer- 
son was at its height, and when party spirit was most 
bitter and virulent — after the passage of the alien and 
sedition laws by Congress. The preamble recites that " it 
is expedient, in the present crisis of affairs, that proper 
guards should be kept for the security of the public pro- 
perty in the city of Richmond," and this corps was in- 
tended to guard the Capitol and the public armory, then 
about being established. At first it was composed of the 
riff-raff and scum of the city, and was really of little or 
no service. But when the command was entrusted to 
that gentleman and fine officer. Captain Blair Boiling, it 
was soon elevated into respectability ; and subsequently, 
under the command of such oflicers as Captain John B. 
Richardson and Captain Charles Dimmock, became, as it 
justly deserved to be, equal to any of the regulars in the 
United States army. 

Captain Boiling was the commander at the time of 
which we are writing, and his first lieutenant was Elijah 
Brown. The company had attached to it a battery of 
four iron pieces, which were used to fire national salutes 
•on the fourth of July and the twenty-second of February. 
At other times it was drilled as an infantry corps. 



232 THE TWO PARSONS. 

On the twenty-second of February, at the evening pa- 
rade, the company was drawn up in force on the phiteau 
in front of the old barracks, and was prepared to lire the 
sun-down salute. 

The command devolved on Lieutenant Brown, in con- 
sequence of the temporary absence of the captain, and 
the ensign and orderly-sergeant were each in charge of a 
half battery. We happened accidentally to be passing at 
the time, and hearing the exhilarating sound of the drum 
and fife, then played by Gardner and blind Edwards, 
than whom it was rare to find better musicians in their 
line, we paused to witness the firing of the salute. 

The first thing that struck us was the appearance of 
Col. Tateham, with whom we had been acquainted for 
some time, and of whose harmless monomania we had 
been aware for years. We saw him close to the musi- 
cians, and heard him say to Gardner, " I am going, 
Gardner, directly into eternity, and have but one request 
to make of you : Play the long roll, crescendo, and then 
diminuendo until it dies away as if in the far distance. 
Edwards, throw your soul into that fife. I have heard 
you do it until the big teai- started in my eye. Let it be 
sweet, old fellow." 

He then came to us, and, recognizing us, placed his 
arm in ours, and said cheerfully, " I am going to the re- 
surrection morn." We walked together in the rear of the 
guns, from the right to the left of the company. 

" Will you uot go with me to my long home ?" We saw 
from his excited manner that he had been drinking freely, 
but thought what we had heard was only one of his 
vagaries. 

It so happened that, to make a louder report, the guns 
were loaded with tobacco stems, twisted into a wad, and 
rammed tight upon the powder, and for some distance 
they flew with the force of a cannon ball. It happened,. 



DUEL PARSON BUCHANAN AND COL. TATEHAM, 233 

too, that the guns were posted facing the east, and that 
the wind, which was light, and the atmosphere heavy, 
drove the smoke slowly from the south, the right of the 
line, towards the left, at which point we had paused. 
" In two minutes," said Col. Tateham, " I shall be in 
eternity." 

We heard Lieutenant Brown give the command, "Right 
half battery, ready." The ensign, " Right gun, lire !" 
The gun w^as iired. In the next half minute, before the 
smoke had cleared away, we heard the order, " Left half 
battery, ready." The orderly, " Left gun !" At this 
moment Col. Tateham, withdrawing his arm from ours, 
sprang directly before the muzzle of the gun, and raising 
his arms to their height, cried at the same moment with 
the officer, " Fire !" 

The tiring immediately ceased, and when the smoke 
was lifted, nothini*; remained Ijut the lifeless bodv of Col. 
Tateliam. The mortal was there; the immortal spirit 
had gone to the presence of its Maker. 

Before the company was dismissed, by permission of 
the lieutenant commanding, Edwards and Gardner stood 
over the remains of the unfortunate gentleman and com- 
plied with his request. Very few of those who surround- 
ed the body went away without shedding a tear. All 
were moved by the mournful pathos of that solemn dirge. 

Parson Buchanan read the service over his grave, and 
shed a tear of pity for his melancholy end. 



15 



CHAPTER XY. 

THE PARTRIDGE HUNT, AND THE PARSON'S SERMON ON 

HUNTING. 

WE have said that Parson Blair was very fond of 
fishing, and we have shown how he improved 
a fishing excursion, and endeavored to promote the cause 
of his Master b_y the analogy he drew between fishing 
for fish and fishing for men. We know, too, that he 
was equally fond of hunting, and that with his dog and 
gun he not unfrequently sought exercise and recreation 
in the fields, where he indulged in reflections which were 
stored in his mind for similar improvement. 

On a frosty morning in the latter part of October he 
was cleaning his gun, oiling the lock, filling his powder- 
flask and shot-pouch, and picking out a couple of new 
flints, for in those days percussion locks were not in use. 
He drew his rammer, and, wrapping a little soft tow 
around it, inserted it in each barrel ; then drawing it out, 
examined it closely, and found it free from rust or dirt. 
Then he wiped the pan and inserted the picker in the 
touch-hole, let down the hammer, loaded both barrels, 
and threw his bird bag over his shoulder. 

In his last reading of the Bible he had opened the 
book accidentally, and his eyes fell upon the First Book 
of Samuel, twenty-sixth chapter, and twentieth verse : 
"Now, therefore, let not my blood fall to the earth be- 
fore the face of the Lord ; for the king of Israel is come 
out to seek a flea, as when one doth hunt a partridge in 
the mountains." We can imagine how his mind played 



THE PARTRIDGE HUNT. 235 

with this passage, for he delighted in themes like these. 
The idea of David comparing himself to a flea, and the 
king of Israel taking so much trouble and pains, even 
with an army, to catch him, and to hunt him as one doth 
a partridge in the jnountains, jumped with his humor. 
He said, " This shall be the text for my next sermon." 

We have had occasion to remember some notice he 
took of his famous dog Milo, and now that he is going 
hunting we must lament with him over the death of 
Milo, and present his epitaph on his old friend. It is 
pleasant to see the notice a good man takes even of his 
beasts ; but when he devotes more than a passing thought 
upon his dog, it displays the kindness of his nature. 
Hear him : 

The death of Milo, now no more, 

Ye tender muses, come, deplore. 

And aid his master to rehearse 

His merits in elegiac verse, 

For he was old and nearly blind; 

He was the truest of his kind. 

My coming he would always hail. 

Old as he was, and wag his tail. 

In hunting he had more renown 

Than any dog in all the town ; 

For though thick films his eyes enclose. 

He'd find a covey by his nose. 

Oft by his mistress he would stand 

And eat his morsel from her hand ; 

Then show his gratitude of heart 

By signs his instinct could impart; 

And when of sickness he'd complain. 

She'd pat his head and soothe his pain ; 

But to no purpose all her care. 

For death came in and claimed his share ; 



236 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Worn out with sickness and with age, 
Last night poor Milo left the stage. 

Epitaph. 
Here lies Milo, aged ten; 
More faithful he than many men. 

The Parson was not long, however, wdthont another 
dog ; for his friend Jemmy Winston, whom we have had 
the pleasure of seeing with his pet lamb, hearing of his 
loss and knowing his fondness for a pointer, sent him his 
own well-trained dog, with a pleasant note, condoling 
with him for the loss of Milo, and saying that Milo's 
mantle had fallen on Clio, and he hoped " with a double 
portion of his spirit." 

The Parson smiled at the conceit, and as he mused he 
said: "Elijah said to Elisha, when he asked that a double 
portion of his spirit might fall upon him, 'Thou hast 
asked a hard thing.' It would indeed be a difficult thing 
to iind a dog with a double portion of Milo's spirit; but 
Jemmy's Clio roams the lields with splendid life and 
motion, has a first rate nose, and is well broke besides." 

There are many strait-laced people who think a parson 
must wear a demure face, must abandon all recreation, 
and devote no time to exercise or amusement — must lite- 
rally " pray always." This is not our opinion. A real 
Christian has more cause to be cheerful than a sinner. 
His face ous-lit to shine with the cheerful love which he 
bears to all men, and he ought to take pleasure in seeing 
others happy. He ought to know that there is a time 
for all things — "a time to weep, and a time to laugh." 
God has "made everything beautiful in his time." We 
know, and have had cause to feel, that recreation to the 
mind is as necessary as rest to the weary body. The 
man that devotes himself entirely to one occupation may 
become proficient in that, but he is apt to become dull 



THE PARTKIDGE HUNT. 237 

and stupid on other subjects, and is unfit to enliven or 
instruct others; and this is the reason so manj^ people 
sleep while some good parsons are preaching. They have 
not learned the mode of propping open people's eyes with 
straws. The old mode was to split the straws and catch 
the upper lid in the split. The new mode ought to be to 
say something animating and instructive, and not in the 
dove-cooing tone. Recreation gives an elasticity to the 
mind, and the thoughts leap and spring with new vigor 
after relaxation. Amusement is a relative term. That 
which will amuse one man is dull, flat, stale, and insipid to 
another. One man amuses himself with books ; another 
with an inspection of the beauties of nature. Some enjoy 
driving, some riding, some fishing, some hunting; some 
scientific conversation, others light gossip. The young 
prefer dancing. The old — when the joints are stiff, and 
rheumatism has taken possession of the bones and the 
gout has rusted their aristocratic hinges — think that 
dancing is the last of all amusements, and denounce it as 
a folly and a sin. Everything depends upon the excess 
to which it is carried. Excessive dressing is sinful; ex- 
cessive eating is gluttony ; excessive drinking is destruc- 
tive to the mind, the body, and the soul; excessive pray- 
ing is fatiguing, and a neglect of other essential duties. 
But everything is beautiful in the time God has appointed 
for it. 

We have been led into these remarks by having before 
us a letter, addressed by a sanctimonious, over-zealous 
member of the church, to Parson Blair, reproving him 
for indulging in mere amusements, while he himself, with- 
out perceiving the beam in his own eye, indulged as 
zealously in other amusements to his taste, which some 
people would think far more objectionable. 

We make a short extract from this letter : " Such 
things, if they were ever so true, would not make me un- 



238 THE TWO PARSONS. 

mediately conclude, with some, that you have no religion ; 
I would leave that for your own examination; but they 
would make me think that religion was in a low state in 
your soul, and afraid that sufficient pains were not taken 
to cherish divine impressions. If the soul is often under 
the cheering beams of Divine love, there will not be much 
time to spend in mere amusements. If we were much 
more engaged to find Christ living in us, we should live 
more to him." 

This is hyper-criticism. Such phrases as " low state 
of religion in your soul," "Divine impressions," "cheer- 
ing beams of Divine love," " no time to spend in mere 
amusements," are very proper in their place. A letter 
like this never did create other feelings than those of dis- 
gust since the world began ; and such were precisely the 
feelings of Parson Blair, for he put the letter in his desk, 
and it was never answered. 

There was another specification, however, of improper 
conduct, and that was the practice " of hunting and fish- 
mg." 

We have exhibited to our readers, without the least 
concealment, the characters of our beloved Parsons — 
placing them in positions which might be called equivocal, 
where, among intimate friends, there were playful levities, 
where fishing was adopted as a recreation. We now 
propose to exhibit Parson Blair perpetrating the sin of 
hunting, and we are not afraid to commend our parsons 
to Divine justice when all shall be required to give an 
account of their actions before the throne of God. 

Parson Buchanan, as we have seen, owned a farm, ex- 
tending into the present limits of the city, upon which 
■was the celebrated spring known as Buchanan's spring. 
This farm had, during the summer, been cultivated in 
wheat. The land was rich, the crops were fine, the 
stubble was high, the cover excellent, the wheat shocks 



THE PARTRIDGE HUNT. 239" 

were still standing, and the birds had gathered there in 
large numbers. This was one of the days, too, when 
Parson Buchanan sought recreation at his farm. "Birds 
of a feather flock together," so there was nothing more 
natural than that Parson Blair should wend his way in 
that direction. Clio had been watching him with a 
practised eye. When he hung the powder-flask on his 
right side, she got up and looked in his face; when the 
shot rattled in the pouch, as he put his left arm through 
the strap, she ran around to the other side, and lay at 
full length, wagging her tail against the ground, until he 
put the wadding in his bag and lifted the gun, then she 
frisked about in the greatest delight, running ahead and 
stopping to obtain the direction. When he turned up 
the street, she knew perfectly where he was going, and 
ran off without waiting for orders. To watch all these 
motions of the dog was one of the enjoyments of the 
man. " Dogs," he said, " were made to be companions 
for man." He had no more devoted friend than Clio. 

There were then only a few old wooden houses in that 
part of Richmond. The open, unenclosed commons, in 
which all the cattle browsed, were close at hand, with 
their ravines and branches in every direction, filled with 
briers, Ijamboo, wild roses and all sorts of bushes. Away 
they hied over these, imtil they came to the cultivated 
fields. Through the fence Clio pressed sideways and the 
Parson climbed up and sat on the top of the rail, watch- 
ing the dog, who, fleet as the wind, swept before it, then 
coming back and sniffing, with head erect, and slowly 
passing to and fro, up and down, trailing, with nose on 
the ground, along the furrows. Suddenly she l)egan to 
creep, and then, with head turned to the right and eye- 
balls strained, she stood staunch. 

"Take care," shouted the Parson, and rapidly ap- 
proached ; but as he advanced, Clio wagged her tail. 



240 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" Ah," said be, " tliat's a hare I Clio never shakes her 
tail at a partridge. Hie on, Clio I" 

Up sprang the hare in the stubble, but the quick eye 
of the Parson saw the cotton on its tail, and bang went 
the gun. Clio had it in an instant. "I could not help 
it," said the Parson ; " what can I do with such small 
game so early in the day ?" But he took it from the dog, 
patted her on the head, and bagged it. "Mrs. Perpetua 
will know what to do with it. A barbecued or fricasseed 
hare is not bad to take." 

A minute more the gun ^vas re-loaded. Clio was a 
hundred yards ahead, and began to show unmistakable 
signs of a cov^ey of birds. She Avould suddenly stop, then 
run on rapidly a few yards, and stop again. Now she 
ran aronnd, circling the birds in a narrow compass, and 
then stood dead staunch. " Take heed ! take heed !" ex- 
citedly shouted the Parson ; then, more deliberately, draw- 
ing the words out slowly, " Take he-e-e-ed, ta-ke heed," 
and getting close enough, he cried, "Hie on! hie on!" 
Clio sprang among them, and up rose a splendid covey 
of well-grown birds. First to the right, then to the left 
— both barrels in quick succession were discharged, and 
two birds were fluttering on the ground. Flurried marks- 
men hurry after the fallen l)irds; not so the Parson. 
He was marking the flight of the covey — Clio was taking- 
care of the game. " Gone to the branch," he said. He 
loaded again. Clio brought l)otli birds and laid them at 
his feet. They were speedily bagged. The Parson 
waved his hand in the direction of the branch; Clio 
took a bee line for the place, as if she had marked the 
covey while catching the two birds. "I am not afraid 
she will flush them," he said ; " Milo's mantle is certainly 
upon her, but the double portion is another thing." 

We show the direction the Parson's mind was taking 
by quoting what he said aloud : " As when one doth hunt 



THE PARTRIDGE HUNT. 241 

a partridge on the mountains." A commentator on this 
passage makes this remark: "The Arabs have another, 
though more laborious, method of catching these birds, 
for observing, they become languid and fatigued after 
they have been put up twice or thrice, they immediately 
run in upon them and knock them down with their 
bludgeons. Precisely in this manner Saul hunted David, 
coming hastily upon him, putting him up incessantly, in 
the hope that at length his strength and resources would 
fail, and he would become an easy prey to his pursuer." 

The difference was very great, however, for Saul had 
with him three thousand chosen men, while David had 
only six hundred followers. Therefore David said, " For 
the king of Israel is come out to seek a flea." The same 
commentator remarks, " Tlie well-known little contemp- 
tible and troublesome insect, the flea, seems to be so called 
from its agility in leaping and skipping. David, by com- 
paring himself to this insect, seems to import that, while 
it would cost Saul much pains to catch him, he would ob- 
tain but very little advantage from it." 

The Parson knew he could not catch these partridges 
•with bludgeons, but he thought he would put them up as 
long as his own strength would permit. 

When he came to the branch, the undergrowth was so 
thick tliat he could not see the dog. " Hie on, Clio !" 
Away flew a bird on the other side of the branch. " That 
was my fault." He called the dog to him. " Close, 
Clio." She began smelling in the sedge close to the briers, 
and instantly stood in the most eager way, but like a 
statue. The whirr of the bird showed he was up, but by 
the time he reached the height of the bushes he was flut- 
tering in the branch, and the report of the gun caused 
another to rise, but the other barrel told the same tale. 
Both of them fell into the thicket. " Dead, Clio, dead." 



242 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Li a little while first one and then the other was brought 
to the Parson's feet. 

"We had prepared this description of the partridge hunt 
in our prosy wav, when we remembered that we had laid 
aside a spirited poetic narrative of the same hunt by the 
Parson himself. We stop the press, as the newspapers 
say, to let the Parson tell it in his own style. 

THE PARTRIDGE HUNT. 

When tired with business, worn with care, 

I would unbend my mind, 
I call my pointer, take the air. 

And leave my cares behind. 

With gun in hand, I onward jog, 

To some adjacent fields, 
Where the true-scented pointer dog 

Abundant pastime yields. 

Now Clio beats with willing mind, 

Well skilled to act her part. 
With nose erect she snuffs the wind. 

While transport fills her heart. 

Big with expectance, forward I 

With quickened step pursue ; 
Not doubting that some game is nigh, 

I keep her full in view ; 

Till, bounding o'er a rising hill. 

At once she 'scapes my sight, 
Onward I press with eager zeal. 

And quick surmount the height. 



THE PARTRIDGE HUNT. 243 

AVhen, see, with cautious feet and slow 

Slie creeps along the ground ; 
She goes, yet scarcely seems to go, 

In stillness most profound ; . 

With anxious voice yet half suppressed, 

' Take heed ! take heed !' I cry, 
I feel a fluttering at my breast, 

The game, the game's liard by, 

'Tis so; she stands as staunch as death, 

(Such is the sportsman phrase;) 
With sinews stiff, slie holds her breath. 

And I with ardor gaze. 

The partridofe squats with great affright 

Under its covert close. 
Hoping to scape the pointer's sight ^ 

Nor once suspects her nose. 

At distance yet, I pick the lock, 

Prepared for the surprise. 
Then slow advance to flush the flock, 

Which thunder as they rise. 

Precaution's vain, I'm all confused; 

They fly from left to right. 
Around, across, all interfused. 

They quite distract my sight. 

I flre at last, but they are gone. 

From every fear exempt ; 
Safe from the pointer and the gun, 

They mock my vain attempt. 



24:4: THE TWO PARSONS. 

A while I stand, and at them look, 
As swift they skim the plain ; 

With care I mark the course thej took, 
And load mj gun again. 

'Tis done, but with less sanguine hope, 

Thither I bend my way ; 
Meanwhile I cheer the pointer up, 

And briskly cry, " hie way !" 

The very word new joy supplies. 
It makes her gay and brisk. 

In blithesome mood away she hies. 
And bounds with wanton frisk. 

Anon, she winds them from afar, 
And high with joy she leaps ; 

But cautious as she draws more near. 
With weariness she creeps. 

If e'er you saw the wily cat 

Steal on a little bird, 
A semblance strong then, just to that 

The pointer stands compared. 

Description would but tire the muse ; 

Again, at distance fit. 
Staunch Clio stands, and with her nose 

Points to the place they sit. 

They rise, but now with sm-er sight, 

I straightway single one ; 
It falls, to Clio's great delight, 

A victim to the gun. 



THE PAETBIDGE HUNT. 245 

I run and pick it up with joy, 

But sorrow soon succeeds ; 
The pleasure's mixed with great alloy, 

My heart with pity bleeds. 

"Poor helpless bird," I cry, "what harm 

Hast thou e'er done to me. 
That I against thy race should arm, 

And death inflict on thee ! " 

But such was nature's law; she gave 

For use their savory brood; 
Then blame not him whose wishes crave, 

Or birds or beasts for food. 

The Israelites of old were fed 

With manna and with quails. 
Then he that would their use forbid 

Man's privilege curtails. 

Yet let compassion's voice be heard. 

Full grateful in its sound, 
Ne'er kill for mirth a harmless bird, 

Nor give a wanton wound." 

Parson Buchanan having for some time heard some 
one banging away in his fields, took it into his head that 
it was brother Blair; so he called up Phoebe, his cook, 
and said to her, "He'll be coming up here by-and-by, as 
hungry as a wolf. He's always talking about feeding 
people with manna and quails. Take the quails out of 
his bird-bag, — they are my birds — cook them hot and 
juicy, and fix up something nice for his dinner." 

" Dats Mars Blair ; I know'd 'twas him," said Phoebe. 
Parson Buchanan put on his hat, and taking his cane 



246 THE TWO PARSONS. 

trudged away toward the spring, rightly judging he would 
find his old crony there. Sure enough there he was, 
sitting with his back against the large willow that shaded 
the spring, with Clio lying at his feet. 

As Parson Buchanan approached, he sang out to his 
old friend, " I say, Nimrod, have you brought joiw own 
venison along for dinner? I told Phrcbe to cook the 
venison, and she wants to know, ' whar hit V " 

"Nimrod! indeed!" said Parson Blair, "Do I look 
like Cush ? Did 1 come from that branch of the family ?" 
He did not budge; hardly looked up. "Venison! old 
man; I see how it is. You are getting blind, and you 
think I am your son Esau, and that you called me to 
your side this morning and said, ' take, I pray thee, thy 
weapons, thy bow and thy quiver, and go out to the 
field and take me some venison.'" Then pleased v/ith 
the conceit, he took the hare out of his bird-bag. " Here 
is some small deer that Phoibe may make savory meat, 
such as thou lovest. When thou eatest it, rinse thy 
mouth wdth a little wine." Upon which he got up and 
shaking his brother's band most cordially, said, " You are 
too fond of venison." 

"Blair," said he, "you need not try to come over me 
wdth your subtlety like Jacob, substituting your hares 
for deer. You have some sermon in your head at this 
very minute, and because, seeing your gun and happen- 
ing to call you Nimrod, and to mention venison, you 
have gone off into quotations about hunting and quivers 
and bows and arrows. Come to the house, and we'll rest 
you, feed you, and thank and bless you to boot." 

Parson Blair picked up his trapping, exclaiming in his 
playful manner, "Well! well! well!" and the two fast 
friends jogged on together. 

"Put down your hat, man; give me your gun, and take 
off your duds ;" then raising his voice, " Here, Phoebe, 



THE I'AKTKIDGE HUNT. 247 

take the bird-bag, you know !" and he winked at Parson 
Blair. 

Phfcbe coming in, made a low curtesy, bobbing up 
and down twice, " Mars Blair, how is you, master ? and 
how is Miss Molly ? f know'd that child when she was no 
bi";c;er than so — when old Mistis Winston used to come 
sweeping in the room in the ra'el old style. Ump-ooh ! 
Has you seed old Mistis lately, Mars Blair ^" 

"Well, Bhoobe, my old woman, Molly is toVrable spry, 
and though old missis has a little rhearnatin, Bhfobe, as 
old folks will have, you know, now and then, yet when- 
ever your Mars John comes in the door, the old lady 
will smooth her cap and prink a little ;" and he winked 
at brother Buchanan. 

"Now, Mars Blair, de ladies me!" And Blui'lje went 
out of the room, laughing and raising both hands, l)ring- 
ing them together, and twisting her fingers in great delight. 

"Brother Blair," said Buchanan, "how do you cv^er 
compose yourself in the pulpit to look so grave V 

This was the way these two old boys invariably carried 
on together." 

We once asked an old negro after his children. "Ah? 
master, they is carrying on such carrying on as you neber 
seed in your born days, dey is." 

After a while they became composed, the rub of the 
meeting passed ofP, and Parson Buchanan drew his chair 
near the lire, stretched out his feet, and crossed his hands 
in his lap. 

" You told me, some time ago, you were going to 
preach a sermon on hunting; is that on your mind still? 
Out with it, and PU help you, may be, with some heads 
or suggestions. It will pass off time pleasantly." 

" You must know, then," said Parson Blair, " that I 
had gone into my school room, where there was not a 
soul, had seated myself at the table, blank sheets before 



248 THE TWO PARSONS. 

me, made a new pen, and put down in black and M'liite 
1 Samuel xxvi. 20 : ' For the king of Israel is come out 
to seek a flea, as when one doth hunt a partridge in the 
mountains.' 1 was looking at it, waiting for the inspira- 
tion to come." 

" Lookino; at what ?" said Parson Buchanan. 

"There it is now; I knew it; I thought it; I said it 
to myself; it has been so ever since I was born. I would 
have bet — no, not bet — I would have prophesied that it 
would happen." 

" That what would happen ?" 

" That McCaw, or some other friend who had a right 
to interrupt me, would happen in at this express moment. 
And so he did, as cheerful, and cosy, and kind, and 
friendly as ever in his life. He is an open-hearted fel- 
low, you know. 

"'Blair,' sai'd he, in his rolicking style, 'what are you 
doing V 

"'Nothing,' I said, in utter helplessness of tone. 

" ' How do you do that ? It is the hardest thing that 
ever I undertook to do.' 

" ' Y^ou seem to be doing it with great facility,' and I 
laid the emphasis on you. 

'"But, Blair, you said you were doing nothing — pen 
in hand, paper before you, spectacles on, door closed.' 

" ' Yes ; but now, pen laid down, spectacles raised up, 
door wide open, friend entered, and, as he is doing notliing, 
sympathy induced me to follow his example.' 

" 'I just came to see what you were doing.' 

" ' I hope you have ascertained it.' 

"'Now, you see, Blair, parsons should not fret.' 

" ' TTas not Job a parson ? (If he was not, he was 
perfect and upright, and one that feared God and es- 
chewed evil.) Did he not say, 'I will not refrain my 
mouth. I will speak in the anguish of my spirit ; I will 



THE PARTRIDGE HUNT. 249 

complain in the bitterness of mj soul.' Do you not 
know bow Bildad tbe Sbubite, and Zopbar the Naama- 
thite, and Eliphaz the Temanite, came to see Job when 
he was composing?' 



" ' Good morning,' said the Doctor. ' Fret on in 
peace.' 

'•'I do like the Doctor,' I said to myself; 'he knows 
how and when to take a hint. Some people do not. 
You tell them, 'Do you see that door?' they reply, ' Cer- 
tainly ; what is the matter with the door ?' Whereupon 
I have frequently ■ dropped into caniptions." Then 
slowly adjusting his spectacles to his nose, he sat as if 
waiting for another question. 

"What are the heads of the discourse, Blair?" 

" Haven't got one." 

" Well, what are the tails then ?" 

"Never have tails. Neither heads nor tails." 

" All body ! ha ?" said our patient brother, sooth- 
ingly. " Let's have a rib or two. Give us some of the 
heart." 

Then they stretched themselves out as before. 

Coincidences are curious things sometimes. There are 
but two passages in the Bible in which the word "part- 
ridge" is mentioned, and yet we remember a circumstance 
that happened many years ago in which that word played 
the part of a witness. 

A man, who looked like a gentleman, came into the 
Bank of Virginia, in Richmond, to change a fifty dollar 
note; and while the teller was counting the money, the 
cashier, who was talking to a gentleman at the counter, 
said: "Mr. Holcombe, you promised to carry a package 
of notes for me to the bank at Lynchburg;" and, in an 
undertone, added, " twenty thousand dollars. The pack- 
age is ready ; will you take it?" 

" I'll put it in my trunk, but it must share the fate of 
16 



250 THE TWO PARSONS. 

my clothes. I'll take the same care of it that I do of my 
own, but will not be responsible for loss." 

"Yery well," said the cashier; "we take the risk;" 
and he handed him the package. 

The stranger seemed to take no notice of what was 
said, received his change, and went out before the gentle- 
man. When he reached the door, he crossed to the other 
side of the street. 

The gentleman went on direct to the Eagle Tavern, 
and the stranger followed not far behind. Holcombe 
passed on up the stairs to his room. The stranger saw 
him close the door, and paused a moment at the top of 
the steps. 

In a little while he stepped to the door and knocked. 

"Come in," was the response. Holcome had taken oif 
his coat and was putting the package in his open trunk. 

"I beg pardon, sir; I simply wish to know which is 
Mr. Sampson's room." And while he waited for the 
reply, took a rapid glance at the trunk. It was a medium- 
sized black leather trunk, and had a pair of coarse boots 
tied through the straps to the leather handle. 

" You had better ask at the bar. I do not know Mr. 
Sampson's room." And, without looking up, he con- 
tinued repacking the articles in the trunk. The stranger 
closed the door and disappeared. 

That night, about three o'clock, the stage left the 
Eagle for Lynchburg. Mr. Holcombe and three others 
were the only passengers. His trunk, with the other 
baggage, was placed in the boot behind, and strapped on 
by the Sriver on the top of the other trunks. 

After slowly ascending a long hill, al)out five miles 
from Manchester, the driver, when near the top, thought 
he heard a trunk drop upon the ground from the boot, 
and, giving the reins to one of the passengers, got down 
and went behind, when, to his surprise, he found his 



THE PARTRIDGE HUNT. 251 

straps cut, one trunk on the ground and another miss- 



ing. 



"Here's the devil to pay," he said. "I have not seen 
or heard a soul, and yet, since I left the foot of the hill, 
some rascal has stolen one of your trunks." 

Out jumped the passengers, without regard to the order 
of their going, each eager to discover his loss. 

"There goes twenty thousand dollars belonging to the 
Bank of Virginia," cried Mr. Holcombe, and he exhibited 
the greatest possible anxiety. 

The driver said: "The trunk with the boots tied to 
the handle is gone." 

"That was mine," said our friend. 

Away they went down the hill, hunting in every direc- 
tion, on both sides of the road, for tracks, for the lost 
trunk, or for some evidence to explain its disappearance. 
The driver was left with his horses, endeavoring to mend 
his straps and fasten up the boot. They could discover 
nothing. They concluded the driver must have been 
mistaken in asserting that all was right at the foot of the 
hill. Holcombe said he could not proceed with them ; he 
felt it to be his duty to return to Eichmond and give in- 
formation at once of what had happened. He trudged 
on to the nearest house he could find, and obtained a con- 
veyance to carry him to the city. 

The bank immediately oifered a reward of five thousand 
dollars for the recovery of the money and the detection 
of the thief. 

In a few days thereafter, the stranger who had changed 
the note in the bank when the package was delivered to 
Mr. Holcombe informed the cashier that he had recovered 
the money, and delivei-ed to him the entire amount. His 
account was that, while he was hunting partridges in the 
fields, he had shot a bird which flew into the woods in a 
crippled condition ; he pursued it some time, till he came 



252 THE TWO PARSONS. 

near a thicket in a dell, and there he saw three negroes, 
sitting around a trunk and appearing to be counting out 
money to divide it ; that he had fired at and dispersed 
them, and then had found the package of money, and 
seeing the advertisement of the bank, had brought it to 
obtain the reward. 

The cashier questioned him very closely as to what had 
become of the trunk and its contents, and the only ac- 
count he could give of it was that he had left it where 
he found it, intending to have it taken home after his 
hunt, but when he returned it had been taken away. 

His account was contradictory and confused. This 
caused suspicion, and officers were sent to search his 
house, and, if necessary, to arrest him. They found in 
his chamber, from the ashes in the fire-place, that many 
substances had been recently burnt ; among the rest, the 
remnant of a great deal of printed paper, marks of the 
type still visible on the page. But in stirring minutely 
among tlie mass, they found a small piece unburnt, with 
these words perfectly distinct: "hunt a partridge." 

Mr. Holcomljo having said that he had bought a new 
Bible the day before he left the city from a book store, 
of a particular edition, and that it was in the trunk with 
the money, they took the imburnt piece to the store, and, 
by the help of the concordance of the Bible, found the 
passage in which these words occur, and the piece of 
paper fitted precisely the place, and demonstrated beyond 
doubt that it was a part of the leaf of that Bible. 

The man was arrested, tried and sent to the peniten- 
tiary, and one of the principal links in the chain of 
evidence against him was a part of the sentence, " As 
when one doth hunt a partridge in the mountains." 

This was the text our two parsons were consulting over 
when we were led into this digression. 

"Blair, we have to consider the circumstances which 



SERMON ON HUNTING. 253 

surrounded Saul and David. David fled from Saul's 
presence, because Saul had not only threatened, but had 
attempted to take his life, and had sent emissaries to hunt 
and arrest him. David had induced a few of his personal 
friends to accompany him as a guard of protection from 
Saul's wrath. These had increased by his popularity to 
the number of six hundred; and Saul, from his jealousy, 
which nothing could allay, persisted in believing that 
David desired to overthrow him and usurp his throne. 
He had gathered to himself an army of three thousand 
picked men, with Abner, his best general, to command 
them, and they had pursued David, hunting him in caves 
and hiding places in the mountains, and driving him out 
of the very holes of the rocks. David continued at every 
opportunity to remonstrate with the king. 'N^otwith- 
standing all I have done, yet thou huntest my soul to 
take it.' Why does the king take so much trouble for 
nothing ? ' After whom is the king of Israel come out ? 
After wliom dost thou pursue ? After a dead dog — after 
a flea V He endeavors to impress upon the king his own 
insignificance, and makes himself to be as worthless as a 
dead dog, as diminutive as a flea. 

"And still there is a caution to be derived from the 
text. Few animals of its size are capable of giving greater 
annoyance and are more difficult to catch than a flea, and 
there are few things more fatiguing than hunting part- 
ridges in the mountains. I am a poor shot, as you know, 
brother Blair, and have not the endurance you have in 
pursuing a bird after its first flight, but I once attempted 
to hunt a covey of partridges which flew to the sides of 
the mountain. There are steep ascents, which are not 
visible until you come upon them; there are wide and. 
deep ravines here, there and everywhere, briers and 
brambles; you overcome one only to be met by another 
obstacle. Bj' the time you reach the point to which the 



254 THE TWO PARSONS. 

birds flew, thej fly straight across a ravine, and alight 
certainly not more than a couple of hundred yards on the 
other side. To reach them, you must descend on one 
one side and immediately ascend on the other, until you 
are utterly exhausted, slipping, falling, rolling, scratched 
and plugged by every sort of rough and jagged impedi- 
ment. The intimation is, your army is perfectly worth- 
less in following me into positions like this. 

"But there is another lesson to be gained by the sur- 
roundings of Saul. A man, when he imagines himself 
safe, feels a degree of security, which of itself makes him 
doubly insecure. Saul knew that he had around him the 
pick and choice of all his host; he felt that Abner, with 
chosen sentinels, guarded his tent, and he placed implicit 
reliance on Abner. What was the consequence ? Saul 
in his imagined security gave himself up to repose, and 
slept most soundly. Abner hearing David proclaim him- 
self as worthless as a dead dog, and as insignificant as a 
flea, omitted to post the pickets, failed to require the 
sentinels to walk to and fro before the king's tent, or 
even before his own tent; in truth, the whole force, 
having been engaged for days hunting David in the 
caves of the mountains, were utterly fatigued and gave 
themselves up to rest. 

"Then David, hearing the stillness of the camp, said: 
'Who will go down with me to Saul's camp?' And 
Abishai said, ' I will go down with thee.' Two as brave 
and daring men as ever attacked wild beasts in their 
lairs. 

" They found Saul sleeping within the trench, and the 
spear stuck in the ground at his bolster. And Abner 
and the people lay around about him. And Abishai, 
seizing the spear, w^as about to smite Saul to the earth, 
saying, ' I will do it so effectually it will not be necessary 
to smite him a second time.' And David said, 'destroy 



SERMON ON HUNTING. 255 

him not, for who can stretch his hand against the Lord's 
anointed and be guiltless.' " 

"There is another consideration," said Parson Bucha- 
nan. "Now all these things happened unto them for 
ensamples; and they are written for our admonition. We 
must not be too secure, even as to our own religious con- 
dition. 'Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed 
lest he fall.' 

" Few men, when puffed up with their own self-im- 
portance, are able to look within, and contemplate the 
frequent recurrence of evil thoughts that intrude them- 
selves upon the very best of men. They begin to think 
and to say, 'Lord, I thank thee that I am not as other 
men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this 
publican. I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all 
that I possess.' I neither hunt nor fish, nor dance, nor 
indulge in frivolities of dress or entertainments. Then 
they imagine that the three thousand guards that they 
have thrown around themselves will be ample to protect 
them from the assaults of the evil one. They stick their 
spear in the ground by the side of their bolster, having 
no use for any protection. But there are times when 
the conscience sleeps, and cannot be awakened ; when 
the heart either softens or else becomes hard as flint; 
when the eye and the ear, the guards of the intellect, are 
enchanted, and all the sentinels are reposing in fancied 
security; then it is that the devil comes softly by the 
bolster, and seizing the spear, thrusts it into the soul; 
and nothing but the Lord's anointed can revive and re- 
suscitate that soul. Here is the lesson. David spared 
the Lord's anointed. The Lord's anointed may spare the 
sinner. There is but one way to ensure that salvation. 
Repent and believe. But how often does it occur that 
while the bridegroom tarries, the sinner is slumbering 



256 THE TWO PARSONS, 

and sleeping. Be assured there will be a time when the 
door will be shut." 

"Brother Buchanan," said Parson Blair, "I thought 
this was my sermon." 

" Well, you know, you went forth and shot my birds, 
and appropriated them. I doubt not you will have less 
scruples in appropriating my ideas, if they suit you." 

" You have had all the partridge hunt to yourself," says 
.Parson Blair, " but you have said not a word about the 
advantages of having helps in a hunt. What chance has 
a man hunting birds without a dog; he must be a trained 
dog, too, or he is not only in your way, but spoils all your 
sport ? What chance has a huntsman without a gun 
against a bird that flies ?" 

" You put it too flne. Brother Blair ; he might use a 
bow and an arrow, a trap or a net. The j^rabs, for in- 
stance, knock down partridges with bludgeons; and the 
experienced kill bags full of sora with common paddles." 
" Gun, without powder and shot ? " continued the 
speaker, not heeding the interruption. 

"Did David have a gun, or powder or shot, when he 
went to hunt Saul at the camp ?" urged Parson Bucha- 
nan. 

" He had Abishai with him, and that helped to steady 
his nerves ; and Abishai took the spear in an instant, and 
that gave him strength." 

Here we will interpose one remark. Preachers have 
great advantages in one respect: they have no one to in- 
terrupt the flow of their ideas, none to arrest the current 
of their thoughts, none to dispute their premises; wliile a 
popular orator, on the other hand, is liable to be ques- 
tioned by every listener, and to have fun poked at him 
from every side, and sometimes he is contradicted flatly. 
To the ready and smart, even this is a great advantage, 
for the quick repartee, well put and highly seasoned, will 



SERMON ON HUNTING. 257 

shut up the most brazen, impudent scamp, and elevate 
the speaker in the estimation of the crowd. But it must 
be ready and a point-blank shot. 

"JSTow, Brother Buchanan, I am astonished at you. 
"What would the Arab do Mdthout the help of his blud- 
geon ? What would the sora catcher do without the 
help of his paddle, and the boat to push through the 
mai'shes? I say, the ignorant sinner requires help; he 
is gi'oping in the dark ; he does not understand half the 
passages he reads in the Bible ; perchance he cannot read 
the Bible at all. What a help it is when a man of pati- 
ence, a man of real piety, a man of undoubted truth, a 
man of good heart and holy soul, of unblemished life, an 
example to the faithless, a well-trained hard student of 
the divine word, like you. Brother Buchanan, comes to 
such a sinner, and expounds and explains to him^ the dif- 
licult passages, smooths the ruts and opens the ditches 
by the side of his road, that he may pass along without 
jolts, and keep out of the mud and mire of despondency. 
If the preacher or expounder knows not what he attempts 
to expound, roams over the field like an unbroken dog 
without finding a covey ; runs on the back-track of some 
animal of which w^e have no thought or care; or after 
finding the birds, flushes them before the gunner can 
get in shooting distance, and bounds aloft wildly, yelping 
at nothing, it would be better to confine him in a lunatic 
asylum. So with the dog: tie him in his kennel, and if 
you have a kind heart, feed him, but let him not hunt 
with you for partridges. 

"Suppose the gun is defective, the lock out of order, 
the powder damp, the flint has lost its fire, — what use is it 
to the huntsman ? Place such a man at a deer stand. 
Bet it be by the side of a shallow pond ; stand him up by 
the side of a tree ; let him get behind it, so as to liave a 
good rest ; let the deer come slowly and cautiously to the 



258 THE TWO PARSONS. 

water; let it walk in and lie clown, and let our friend, 
with cocked . gun, shivering with a buck ague, sum up 
courage to pull the trigger. Snap ! Let him see that the 
deer hears the snap, and let him, in his flurry, cock and 
snap as fast as a flurried man would ; let him become 
cool, and take the gun down from his shoulder, and pick 
the flint and rub the steel with his hat : let him then take 
aim at the deer's eye, at his heart, at every part of his 
body — snap ! snap ! snap ! Up jumps the deer, and away 
in an instant, leaving our friend shouting at the top of 
his voice, ' Clear yourself, you good-for-nothing scamp,' 
and you will have a vivid conception of the value of a 
good gun, and the propriety of never going deer hunting 
with a bad one. 

" Could you expect to bring proselytes into a church 
with such a gun as that ? or with such a minister as that, 
shivering with a buck ague, and never al)le to Are a single 
shot ? 

" Let the presbyters and leading members be sound 
asleep ; let all the judicatories, rising in a series one above 
the other, be gently composed into a profound slumber, 
and let the reviewing and controlling body be so feeble 
as to be scarcely alive. Let the ministry be uneducated, 
and incompetent to interpret and decide matters of faith, 
and in matters of worship and discipline to legislate and 
decide what is most conducive to edification and godliness. 
Let the bishops, priests, and deacons, lay deputies and 
communicants follow the example of Saul and Abner. 
Let a ' deep sleep from the Lord fall upori them,' and 
David may say to all of them, as he said to Abner, ' This 
thing is not good that thou hast done. As the Lord 
liveth, ye are worthy to die, because ye have not kept 
your master, the Lord's anointed.' " 

Here Parson Buchanan interposed : " There are many 
and various kinds of hunting. There is such a thing as 



SERMON ON HUNTING. 259' 

hunting for lost sheep. ' "What man of yon, having an 
hnndrecl sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the 
ninety-and-nine in the wilderness, and go after that which 
is lost, until he find it V If the sheep has strayed away 
and laid down in the thicket and fallen asleep, or per- 
chance has been wounded, and cannot return to the fold, 
how much greater the necessity to hunt till he find it ! 
There are many lost sheej), wounded, not with spear or 
gun, but by evil tongues, by hatred, variance, emulations, 
wrath, strife, envyings ; ' restore such an one in the spirit 
of meekness, considering thyself lest thou also be temp- 
ted.' When he can, by gentleness and kind persuasion, 
bring back such an one into the fold, he may well say to 
his friends and neighbors, ' Rejoice with me, for I have 
found ray sheep which was lost.' 

" Besides hunting for partridges, our huntsmen some- 
times take infinite delio;ht in huntino; foxes. The old- 
fashioned fox-hunting gentleman found it necessary to 
hunt foxes to protect their lambs and poultry. 

"The country was thinly settled, and the foxes were 
exceedingly troublesome and destructive. Every gentle- 
man prided himself on his pack of tlioroughbred fox 
hounds. Now they are kept almost entirely for amuse- 
ment. It is a luxury in which the wealthy chiefly in- 
dulge. They are men who generally love their ease and 
repose in indolence. Their dogs are kept in fine condi- 
tion, and over and over again we have seen them on their 
beautiful lawns, winding their silver horns for the pleas- 
ure of hearing their pack howl. They know the voice of 
each dog, and can descant by the hour on their (jualities 
and pedigree. They are able to rouse themselves to the 
most laborious and exciting chase for hours and days to- 
gether. One would think, to see their preparation, that 
the fate of the country was in the keeping of each noted 
squire ; and when they get under way, with a full pack of 



260 THE TWO PARSONS. 

good hounds, the coldest looker on gives them an animat- 
ing cheer. The_y are all animated with generous rivalry 
to obtain the brush, and notwithstanding the recklessness 
of the riders and the worthlessness of the prize, when, 
you see them returning, the old squire in the lead with 
the brush in his hat, and behold the flush of success on his 
cheek, and hear his laugh and cheer, you cannot but feel 
elated. This is the result of hunting for fame, even in a 
fox chase. To be the foremost, outstripping the dogs, and 
to obtain the applause of your comrades is the object and 
end in view. 

"But excitement like this palls on the appetite when 
repetition has taken off the novelty, and such excesses 
not unfrequently induce those who partake of them to 
go hunting with Satan as their companion. It is a law 
of our nature that sinful indulgence begets a craving for 
further excess, and dissipation gradually glides into drunk- 
enness, and the drunkard becomes a pitiable dotard. He 
cannot even obtain the relief vouchsafed to Saul. Sleep 
is denied him. He has not the strength left to stick his 
spear by the side of his bolster as a means of protection. 
But he gives himself up, soul and body, to his wary and 
wily companion. In such cases the wretched man not 
only hunts with the devil, but he hunts for him — be- 
comes his decoy duck to bring Abner and his friends to 
sleep in the trenches, an easy prey to fatal security. 

" We must remember, too, that when we are hunting for 
the devil he has the ability to return the compliment ; and 
he has the advantage, for he hunts with fascinations that 
are overpowering. He places before us temptations that 
frail humanity can scarcely resist. He takes us up into 
the holy city, and sets us on the pinnacle of the temple, 
puffed up with pride at our great exaltation. He takes 
us, again, into an exceeding high mountain, and offers us 
all the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them. 



SEEMON ON HUNTING. 261 

He applies his opiates to lull us to sleep. There is but 
one alternative left. Invoke the Spirit of the Lord, and 
the cords upon thine arms shall become as flax that was 
burnt with Are, and thy bands shall be loosed from off 
thy hands. Let the tempted resort to the teachings of 
the wise, and forget not the admonitions of the prophets 
and the fathers who are dead. These shall become th& 
spear at thy bolster, which may be seized at the propitious 
moment. We know that the Lord's Anointed still liveth. 
His holy word is our best hunting-ground. Moses and 
the prophets are dead, but their precepts and teachings 
and example are living. Hunt among them. 'If ye 
hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will ye be per- 
suaded though one rose from the dead.' 

" The dev.il is not over particular about hunting his 
partridges in the mountains. The trouble is not as great 
with him as it was with Saul, but there the game is more 
scarce. He prefers gay courts and crowded marts, great 
cities and populous kingdoms. He delights in sleeping 
congregations and unguarded camps. At such times he 
gathers his partridges by thousands, as the Israelites did 
their quails in the wilderness. Few of us have an idea 
of the number of quails that were gathered. Moses com- 
puted the people before the Lord, and said, 'There are 
six hundred thousand footmen.' Then there were wo- 
men, and children under twenty years of age, and all 
these were to be fed with quails for an entire month. 
Moses said, ' It will take all the fish of the sea to sufiice 
them.' 'But there w^ent forth a wind from the Lord 
and brought quails from the sea, and let them fall by the 
camp, as it were a day's journey on this side, and as it 
were a day's journey on the other side, round about the 
camp, and as it were two cubits high upon the face of 
the earth' — that is, upwards of three feet high. Some 
have it they were flying about two cubits high above the 



262 THE TWO PARSONS. 

earth. And as the people stood up, according to the 
narrative, 'all tliat day, and all that night, and all the 
next day,' and as he that gathered the least gathered 
ten homers, and each homer was equal to about eight 
bushels, each person must have gathered about eighty 
bushels of quails, which would make an aggregate of 
about a thousand million of bushels that were gathered. 
How many quails in each bushel we have not computed, 
but it could not have been much less than fifty, and this 
would give fifty thousand million of quails. No wonder 
in that hot climate that it produced a very great plague. 

" If Satan gathers into his garners his partridges in the 
same proportion, not by the month, but by decades even, 
there will be an awful number. Therefore well saith the 
Lord, 'Enter ye in at the strait gate; for^wide is the 
gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, 
and many there be which go in thereat.' 

"There is such a thing, too, as hunting for riches — 
hasting to be rich. 'There is,' saith Solomon, 'that 
maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing; tliere is that 
maketh himself poor, yet hath great riches.' 'He that 
hasteth to be rich shall not be innocent.' He will not 
be content with the slow but honest means of accom- 
plishing his purpose. He must take short cuts and use 
unscrupulous means. He has a mania for speculation. 
He goeth forth into the streets, and on the curb-stones 
hunteth for those who are 'hard up,' as they call it, and 
he will not be satisfied until he has a mortgage on every- 
thing possible to be obtained, deeds of trust and good 
collaterals, and interest far exceeding what the law 
allows, and the oflicers of the law hunting his victim 
until he leaves him without a shelter for his head, or a 
pillow for his wife and children. He forgettetli" that 
'as the partridge sitteth on eggs, and hatcheth them not, 
so he that getteth riches, and not by right, shall leave 



SERMON ON HUNTING. 263 

them in the midst of liis days, and at his end shall be a 
fool.' Riches, properly obtained, are given to us by 
God as a blessing, and as a means of doing good to the 
wretched and needy. David saith, 'Blessed is the man 
that feareth the Lord, that delighteth greatly in his com- 
mandments; wealth and riches shall be in his house, and 
his righteousness endureth for ever.' 

" God said unto Solomon, ' Because thou hast asked 
wisdom and knowledge, that thou may est judge My people, 
over whom I have made thee king, wisdom and know- 
ledge is granted unto thee; and I will give thee riches 
and wealth and honor.' But when a man is not content, 
and goes about with but one aim, and that one to amass 
great wealth, he will necessarily fall into temptation, and 
his wealth will become to him a snare ; he will hunt after 
many foolish and sinful lusts, which will drown him in 
destruction and perdition. ' For the love of money is the 
root of all evil, which while some coveted after they 
have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through 
with many sorrows.' " 

" Besides, brother Buchanan," said Parson Blair, " we 
must not omit what the Lord intends to accomplish for 
His people Israel. ' Behold,' saith the Lord, ' I will send 
for many fishers, and they shall fish them; and after, I 
will send for many hunters, and they shall hunt them 
from every mountain and from every hill, and out of the 
iioles of the rocks, and I will bring them again into their 
land that I gave unto their fathers.' 

" How wonderful the prophecy, and how fully it has 
been accomplished, so far as their dispersion to the ends 
of the earth was foretold. ' Thou hast scattered us 
among the heathen.' 'For I am with thee, saith the 
Lord, to save thee; though I make a full end of all 
nations whither I have scattered thee, yet will I not make 
a full end of thee; but I will correct thee in measure, 



264: THE TWO PARSONS. 

and will not leave thee altogether unpunished.' 'Who 
can stretch forth his hand against the Lord's anointed 
and be guiltless V ' Behold, I will bring them from the 
north country, and gather them from the coasts of the 
earth.' 

" May that great people, and all others, of every hue 
and clime, be able to say, as David said to Saul when he 
removed his spear from his bolster and spared his life : 
' As thy life was much set by this day in mine eyes, so 
let my life be much set by in the eyes of the Lord, and 
let Him deliver me out of all tribulation. Amen.' " 

"Brother Buchanan," said Parson Blair, "are you as 
good at taking a hint as Dr. McCaw? I will quote one 
of Solomon's proverbs: 'The slothful man roasteth not 
that he took in hunting.' " 

"Pho3be," shouted Parson Buchanan, "is not the 
venison roasted yet?" 

" I thought I smelt it," said Parson Blair. 

They understood each other thoroughly, and so did 
Phcebe. 

In a few minutes she came to the door and said : " Mars 
John, dinner ready." 

There was a dinner for Saul himself — a hare stewed a 
la venison, broiled partridges basted with the finest fresh 
butter, a cold ham, sundry vegetables and suitable condi- 
ments. 

Phoebe placed a pitcher of fresh spring water on the 
table, and left the parsons to enjoy their bountiful repast. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

PARSON'S BLAIR'S FEMALE SEMINARY, 

IN a former chapter we have given a few scenes that 
occurred in Parson Blair's school for boys. He kept 
this school for a year or two after that time. Havino; 
been appointed principal in a female seminary, subse- 
quently established, he was, in addition to his parochial 
duties, devoting liis time and talents in training young 
ladies for the important duties of life. 

Our worthy Parsons often thought of each other, and 
Parson Buchanan, knowing how closely Parson Blair was 
occupied, would frequently look in at the seminary to see 
what progress the young ladies were making. Having a 
matter of moment to communicate, he came about eleven 
o'clock to the school, and as he walked into the room, pat- 
ted this young lady on the head, took that one by the 
hand, and had something kind to say to each as he passed. 
Coming up to the smallest girl, he slipped slyly into her 
hand a stick of peppermint candy, saying, " Hold fast 
what I give you." There was a short conference with 
Parson Blair, and the good Dominie said, " Miss Lnly 
Ingledon, I wish you to try your hand in hearing the 
French class while I am absent. I shall return in about 
jfifteen minutes. You are fully competent, and I shall 
rely upon you to keep order." 

This was a compliment, and the young lady came up 
immediately and thanked him for his kindness. 

"We must give our readers a' sketch of Miss Ingledon. 
She was a smart, sprightly girl, both in mind and man- 
17 



266 THE TWO PARSONS. 

nei's, with a bright, speaking eye. indicative of mischief, 
and a countenance that foreshadowed a warm heart, af- 
fectionate, but full of fun and good humor. Quite pretty, 
and just beginning to bud into womanhood, she was likely 
to play the very Dickens with youths who were coaxing 
their mustaches, brushing their hats and coats, and gal- 
lanting young ladies to church. 

She was one of the more advanced scholars, with a few 
ringlets adorning her face, and the Parson had devoted 
much time in preparing her for her dehtit. She possessed 
a fine memor}'', and liad a talent for mimicry. 

The Parsons went into an adjoining room for conference, 
leaving Parson Blair's cloak and hat hanging upon brack- 
ets in full view. His spectacles w^ere on his table, and 
his stick in the corner. The sight of these things put 
Luly in the notion of personating the Principal. She 
was a first-rate mimic, and had caught the voice, the 
solemn demeanor, and the very manner of the Parson. 
So robing herself in the overcoat, she buttoned it close 
to the chin, and folded her hair into the hat. Slie then 
placed the double spectacles on her nose, and taking the 
stick rapped it on the floor several times, throwing her- 
self back in the arm-cliair, and to the delight of tlie whole 
school, in the tones of the Parson, said, " The French 
■class will come up for recitation. We will dispense with 
the text-books to-day, and take a running fire along the 
line. Miss Stockdale, do you see that blackboard against 
the wall ? " " Ves, sir,''"' said that young lady, tittering. 
" Well, Miss, you have been in the habit of making arith- 
metical calculations on that board, will you tell me what 
you call a ' blackboard ' in French ?" Miss Stockdale 
did not seem quite so amused, and began hemming and 
hawing, but she neither " growled nor grumbled." 

" I desire you to answer this question," said the teacher, 



PAKSON BLAIr's FEMALE SEMINARY. 267 

with great gravity, placing her forefinger across her lips, 
and awaiting the answer. 

" That's not in my lesson," said the young lady. The 
girls laucrhed with ffreat o;lee. 

" I hope, young ladies, you will show proper respect 
to your teacher. I desire you. Miss, to play upon some 
other piano, and to use some other music-book than your 
own. Listen, I wish you to know something when you 
go from this school. ' Blackboard ' in English, is a com- 
pound word, formed of ' black ' and ' board.' Thus, I 
should say, ' black ' is ' dark,' dismal, like night. You, 
now getting a little moody, are ' blackbrowed.' Your 
hair is black, and I may say you have black eyebrows. 
' Board ' is a piece of wood, of more length and breadth 
than thickness, and is made of plank. In French, this is 
a compound word too, composed of ' noire,' an adjective, 
signifying ' black ' — or as we say of a brunette, ' she is 
of rather a dark complexion ' — and ' planche ' is a sub- 
stantive, signifying a plank, a board, and, being feminine, 
we say, ' la planche no'ire^ — a blackboard. Now, don't 
forget this as long as you live." Then she said, " Why 
do you not applaud ?" Upon this the older girls clapped 
their hands and hurrahed, and the little ones danced. 

" I have another reason. Miss, for desiring to impress 
this word upon your memory. I have had a suspicion of 
late, when the arithmetical class was about to recite, that 
you had a fancy for rubbing a greasy rag over the board 
to prevent the chalk from marking. It is a very naughty 
trick. I hope you will not do so any more." This pro- 
duced an uproarious laugh, and Miss Stockdale rather 
archly joined in, while her face was suffused with blushes. 

" Young ladies, remember you must not tell tales out 
of school. Miss Stockdale is excused. 

" Miss Patsy Roe, will you do me the favor to tell me 
what is the French for ' blushing V " 



268 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" ' Rougissant^ I believe," she replied. 

" Very well ! And this reminds me that blushing, 
which is a beautiful suffusion of the blood, forming a na- 
tural vermilion over the cheek, when caused by modesty, 
is also produced by shame or confusion. Eouge is a paint 
with which some ladies attempt to imitate nature ; but 
they are generally so unskilful, that even an unpractised 
eye can detect it." 

" I do not paint," said Miss Patsy, indignantly. 

"I did not charge it," said the teacher; "but merely 
spoke of the paint which some ladies use." The girls 
shouted and applauded. 

" If I have been unfortunate in my suggestion I regret 
it. Rouge, when an adjective, in French is red, rosy, 
scarlet; and when a person is charged accidentally with 
an olfen(;e which they have actually committed, the blood 
is very apt, unless it be a hardened sinner, to rush to the 
face and suffuse cheeks, forehead, and ears." This was 
the precise case at this time, with Miss Roe's face. 

" Now, young ladies, I wish you to understand that I 
do not approve of using rouge, carmine, saucers or pearl 
powders, and the like. The early riser, who, after hav- 
ing made her ablutions, takes the fresh air in the morn- 
ing and a rapid walk, will have roses in her cheeks, and 
vermilion lips, and be beautified far more than by all the 
rouffe in the world." 

" i^ow," said our mimic, taking off her hat. " I have 
delivered the counterpart of what Mr. Blair told me a 
few days ago, when I asked him privately what were the 
meanin2;s in French of these two words, 'blackboard' and 
'blushing.' But, young ladies, as we have a few minutes 
left, I shall undertake here, in your names, to enter my 
protest against that monstrous ' anti-candy ' regulation, 
which I understand has been promulgated by the trustees 
of this academy, against which we have raised our voices. 



PAKSOJsr blair's female seminary. 269 

I will do Mr. Blair the justice to say he was not the 
author of it. The idea that a young lady, who every- 
body says is a sweet creature, should for that reason be 
denied the right of adding to her sweetness, is preposterous. 
Why may we not go to the confectioners to purchase 
candy ? Should we not improve our minds, brighten our 
understandings and increase our wisdom, if we can ? May 
we not ' add to faith, virtue, and to virtue, knowledge V 
May we not ' add to godliness, brotherly kindness ; and 
to brotherly kindness, charity ?' And why may we not, I 
pra}^, add sugar-candy to sweetness, icing to cake, mo- 
lasses to buckwheat cakes, and currant jelly to wild ducks 
and partridges?" The girls applauded with all their 
hearts. " I protest against this rule. It is arbitrary and 
against reason. If young ladies should become a little 
sour, is there any reason in the world why they may not 
tone down the sourness with a morceau of cream candy ? 

"Besides, we have had it dinged into our brains a 
thousand times that contentment brings happiness and 
peace. A contented mind is a continual feast. Is there 
any truer representative of contentment than to see a 
little girl sitting down on the floor with a molasses stick 
in her hands, sucking the large head, while the juice 
beautifully displays itself over the greater portion of her 
face ? What is more delightful than for a young lady, 
just turning out, to have her pockets full of the nicest 
bon-bons, which she has the pleasure of eating, as you 
would chinquapins and chestnuts, from morning until 
night. Even Parson Buchanan knows how to reach the 
heart with nice papers of sugar-candy." Extending her 
arm to its full length, she raised the hat from the table, 
and flourishing it over her head, shouted, "Hurrah for 
Parson Buchanan." 

At this moment the Parsons entered, and catching the 
oratrix in her climax, each made her a low bow, and Par- 



270 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

son Buchanan thanked her for the applanse with which 
she had o-reeted his name. 

With hurry and confusion she immediately commenced 
discarding her borrowed phimes, and, bhishing, good hu- 
moredly retired to her seat; and the school quickly came 
to order. Parson Blair smilingly said : " Luly, I know 
you have been in mischief, but you cannot help it." 

Parson Buchanan, with a pleasant salutation, quietly 
retired. 

A short time after the scenes we have recorded, there 
was a public examination of the scholars of the academy 
at the end of the scholastic session. They were not in 
the habit in those days of giving young ladies diplomas 
as Bachelors or Masters of Art, thus preparing them to 
take the place of the sterner sex. They were fitted for 
more appropriate duties, and an ample arena was opened 
before them for the duties of life. They could give an 
appearance of neatness and comfort to everything around 
them, and make their homes pleasant retreats for their 
families and friends. They had no unuatural desire for 
the habiliments of men; for the occupations to which 
their strength was not adapted; for the exercise of the 
ballot, and the crowded contests of excited elections ; for 
the lower or higher offices of the State, the duties of 
which could not be discharged without a neglect of 
household matters, a disgraceful abandonment of children 
in their helplessness, and a disregard of all delicacy of 
feeling and sentiment. 

At the close of the session the teachers would give the 
most proficient a certificate of moral deportment and of 
high mental culture, and the heads of the classes had 
silver medals, to gratify their ambition and stimulate 
those who were to succeed them. Then there would be 
a feast of watermelons and canteloupes, in which all 
would indulge to their hearts' content. 



PARSON BI-AIr's FEMALE SEMINARY. 271 

On the present occasion there had been a pubhc ex- 
amination of the scholars, in which the fair pupils liad 
acquitted themselves to the satisfaction of all the visitors 
and parents. It was a rule that the scholars should select 
as their representative the young lady deemed by them 
the most talented, amiable, and beloved, and they had 
with great unanimity selected our friend Miss Luly In- 
gledon. Both parsons thought the honor fully deserved, 
and were greatly gratified. 

Parson Buchanan had specially desired to send to the 
scholars, in addition to the melons furnished by Parson 
Blair, a present as a token of regard from himself; but 
by some mistake the articles he had ordered arrived too 
late, much to his mortification and to the loss of the 
scholars. 

After the school had been dismissed, and all had de- 
parted, the following note was addressed to him by 
Parson Blair, which explains itself : 

" To THE Rev. John Buchanan : 
" Dear Brother : 

"I send you back the present rare 
You had intended for the fair. 
My female pupils had dispersed, 
So plums and almonds are reversed. 
Yes, they're reversed, — I see you smile, 
But, sir, it's Jeffersonian style. 
Almonds that might regale a rector, 
And plums as sweet as any nectar; 
Candy, in its rich completeness. 
Adding sweets to lassies' sweetness. 
Leslie will send you bill of costs, 
See you the parcels be not lost ; 
And sure they need not, for, in truth, 
They can't hut please a parson's tooth. 



272 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Or if tliej make too large a stock, 
Distribute them among your flock ; 
Or send to vendue, with condition 
To pay the auctioneer's commission. 
Or if at this your Rev'rence spurn. 
Then keep them till my girls return. 
Horace, you know, advised his master. 
Just that his boys might learn the faster, 
To srive them' now and then a cake, 
For love of them and learnino-'s sake. 
My pretty girls must learn still better. 
With plums to sweeten every letter. 

"J. D. B." 

We have mentioned only two of the young ladies who 
distinguished themselves at Parson Blair's Female Acad- 
emy, though many of them helped to adorn the society 
of Richmond in after years. We hope to be excused for 
going a little out of our way to mention another of those 
pupils, who, like Luly Ingledon, was a favorite both at 
school and in the society in which she afterwards moved. 

There are few in old or modern times more deserving 
of admiration and praise than was Miss Agnes S. B. 
Gamble, the daughter of Col. Robert Gamble, then living 
in the noted mansion on the hill known ever since as 
Gamble's Hill. She subsequently became the wife of 
Governor William H. Cabell, nephew of old Col. William 
Cabell, of Union Hill, who jnarried Margaret Jordan, 
sister of old Mrs. Winston. Governor Cabell was in 
office from 1805 to 1808. He was afterwards elected 
judge of the Supreme Court of Appeals, of Yirginia, and 
was eminently distinguished for incorruptibility as a judge, 
for suavity of manners, high talents, and a fair and honor- 
able career until the day of his death. 

We have been favored with a letter, written by Mrs. 



PARSON BLAIr's FEMALE SEMINARY. 273 

Cabell to a friend, who was a merchant in New York, 
just after her husband had been elected Governor, which 
we feel justified in making public, as it gives a little in- 
sight into the style of furniture thought necessary for the 
Governor's house in those days, and the mode of supply- 
ing it. It shows, too, the taste and playful manner of 
our friend in selecting her bonnet, china and table-cloths. 

"Richmond, February ISth, 1806. 
"Dear Sir: 

"I take the liberty to request your attention to a few 
commissions wliich I wish to have executed. , 

"I know I need make no apology for the trouble to 
which I shall put you, since I am not acquainted with 
any person on wliom I could so well depend for the 
choice of the articles I need. 

" I will thank you to purchase for me the handsomest 
straw honnet you can meet with, after the spring fashions 
come in. As the ladies know more about these things, 
your choice may be assisted by some of the belles of 
your acquaintance. 

" You will be so good as to inform me if an elegant set 
of dessert china can be procured in Kew York. I wish 
it to be richly gilt, and adorned with some color and 
figure. 

"I think you saw my tea china. There is now in 
town for sale a dessert set that is figured just like it, 
viz.: a little green sprig, edges gold. It is handsome, 
but 7iot showy enough. Dr. Brockenborough has received 
this fall a very splendid set, the edges bordei-ed above an 
inch deep with pm-ple and gold, the centre ornamented in 
like manner; ground perfectly white. I should prefer 
mine to be differently figured, Ijut have no objection to 
its being equally elegant. 

"You know I have a set of dinner china; therefore 



274 THE TWO PARSONS. 

am only in want of a dessert set. If you find you can- 
meet with such as you tliink I should be pleased with, I 
will thank you to give me a description of the figure ^ 
number of pieces, and cost of a complete set. You will 
find that the dishes of dessert china are not formed like 
those of dinner china; tliey are various — some square, 
some oval — like boats, grape leaves, &c. 

"I will also thank you to look out for two of the 
handsomest damask table-cloths the city can produce. 
They must be each large enough to cover a table sixteen 
feet long, four feet nine inches wide, and to hang over 
each end and each side at least a foot. 

" Your correspondents here will give you the town 
news. We have had a number of belles from different 
parts of the country this winter, who, while here, have 
made no little racket. Miss Ward is the only one of 
them likely to get a husband by the trip. She is to be 
married the first of next month to Peyton Randolph. 
Miss Edmonia Randolph is also, it is affirmed, to marry 
Thorn. Preston. The Misses Foushee have been verj 
quiet all the winter. I have not heard of their making 
any new conquests. And as for the rest of our town 
belles, I believe they are likely to remain unmolested the 
remainder of the season. 

" Mamma sends her love and best wishes for your health 
and happiness, in which she is joined by 

"Your sincere friend, 

"A. S. B. Cabell. 

''Mr. John Tahh, New Yorl\'' 

Agnes Sarah Bell Cabell (we give the full name), and 
her sister, Mrs. William Wirt, were both pupils of Parson 
Blair, and the ladies Mrs. Cabell mentions were well 
known as belles in reality. 

We are greatly tempted to give our readers an outline 



PARSON BLAIr's FEMALE SEMINARY. 2Y5- 

sketch of their beauty, grace, elegance, and refinement. 
Tliey gave eclat to the society of Richmond for half a 
century. We will only mention two of them. 

Miss Isabella Foushee married Tliomas Ritchie, the 
" Napoleon of the Press," and her daughter, Mrs. Harri- 
son, of Lower Brandon, still dispenses the hospitalities 
of that elegant old mansion. Her sister, Charlotte, who 
bore off the palm of beauty undisputed in that day in all 
Virginia, married Williams Carter. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

PAKSON BUCHANAN'S MODE OF DISCHAllGING PAROCHIAL 
DUTIES.— THE COBBLER AND HIS SHOE. 

WE now call attention to Parson Buchanan, to his 
manner of performing parochial duties, visiting 
parishioners, dispensing blessings of consolation to the 
distressed, and bestowing charity upon all in need within 
his sphere. When he cannot perform these pleasing duties 
himself, he is ev^er enquiring for worthy objects of bounty, 
and stimulating the benevolent to bestow kindness in al- 
leviating the wants of others. 

It frequently happened in his intercourse with wealthy 
men of business, who were too much occupied to attend 
to such matters, that he would put in a kind word, not as 
if he came specially upon an errand for collecting money, 
but incidentally he would mention facts within his know- 
ledge which called for investigation. " You know, my 
friend," he would say, " how difficult it is for one person, 
single-handed, to aiford any great relief to those requir- 
ing assistance." 

On one occasion he was talking in a friendly way with 
old Mr. Wm. Gait, a Scotchman, who had made and was 
still amassine- a laroje fortune. He said he had often been 
struck with the fact that there were persons in middle 
life, who, from untoward circumstances, had fallen into 
poverty, -with whom the suifering was much greater 
than with those who were lower in the scale of society. 
These latter knew how to scuffle, had been enured to 



MODE OF DISCHARGING PAROCHIAL DUTIES. 277 

work, and did not hesitate to beg when sorely pinched by- 
want. 

He alluded to a class who were educated, whose minds 
from culture were sensitive, who felt neglect keenly, 
could fancy coldness to them from old associates where 
no coldness was intended. He had in his mind people who 
had not the physical strength to work, did not know how to 
labor, having no previous training, and were accustomed to • 
better days — to comforts now denied. They had, day 
after day, seen their furniture gradually disappearing — 
pawned or sold for food. People wdio liad no income, 
living without even decent apparel ; keeping up appear- 
ances in a single room to conceal from the few fi-iends 
left the want that environed them ; too honest to do a 
mean action, and ashamed to l^eg, were those especially 
commended to his care. He said, while a single dollar 
would help them, which was more than people generally 
gave to ordinary beggars, yet it was too small and too 
soon gone to alleviate their sufferings. When hope had 
ceased, and the heart was sick from deferred expectations, 
then the mind suffered most keenly and the body wasted 
away. He knew cases like these, but some of them had 
the additional burden of two or three small children, 
coming, as children would do, at unseasonable hours to 
ask for bread, when there was no bread to give, and no 
money to buy it. He had known cases where ladies had 
gone to work and obtained one and sixpence a day ; left 
their little ones to shift for themselves, and worked with 
a needle on a long summer's day without a murmur. True, 
they received their own food ; but what was twenty-five 
cents to feed and clothe themselves and their children ? 
to purchase fuel and pay house -rent ? Those who had not 
felt it could not tell the wear and tear of mind and body 
of those who had to look it fairly in the face day and 
nisht. 



278 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" I mention these things, Mr. Gralt," said he, " that you 
may, on some suitable occasion, make enquiry for your- 
self. They will not knock at your door and beg, but 
liberality will not be misplaced by giving to such as 
these." 

Mr. Gait said " he had not the time to make personal 
investigation, but he would make the Parson his al- 
moner." He went to his desk, opened his check-book, 
^nd gave a check on the Bank of Virginia, for one liun- 
dred dollars, saying, " When you come across cases like 
those you have described, give it as may seem to you 
best." 

Wherever he went, he was the harbinger of good tid- 
ings, seldom using reproof, but with beaming smiles and 
soft tones, ever bringing words of love, and referring in 
gentlest manner to the truths of holy writ as the foun- 
tain and source of all happiness and blessing. He con- 
sidered the ills of life, the turmoil and strifes among con- 
nections, and the jarrings in family circles, as the shadows 
in the picture, tliat ought to be softened down by gen- 
erosity, kindness and love. 

Indeed, both of our good Parsons took real pleasure in 
trying to quiet family disturbances, and would so repre- 
sent matters as to compose and mollify ruffled tempers ; 
and thus bring about reconciliation and peace, where 
there would have been discord and open rupture. " Blessed 
are the peace makers, for they shall be called the children 
of God." 

How distressing it is to see brothers and sisters, parents 
xmd children, and worse still, husbands and wives, es- 
tranged from each other about petty differences, that 
seem continually to grow larger in proportions, and to 
be aggravated by the very relationship between them. 
How unenviable is the character of those who continually 
pass from one to the other, and carry backwards and for 



THE COBBLER AND HIS SHOE. 279 

wards remarks stimulated at the moment by anger and 
passion, and induced by the exaggerated accounts of the 
tale-bearers themselves, who have mao-nilied the lano-uase 
and manner of those they are falsely representing. 

It was the delight of our good brothers to endeavor to 
counteract the evil effect produced by such characters. 
They would listen patiently to the grievances of both 
parties, and then showing them how trifling the real dif- 
ference l>etween them was, they would palliate harsh 
epithets, and excuse both. They would then condemn 
such estrangements as anti-christian, wanting in charity 
and brotherly love, and particularly censural>le in mem- 
bers of the church. Not unfrequently, by their disin- 
terested kindness, taking sides with neither, and in all 
things showing affectionate regard for both, they suc- 
ceeded in removing all obstacles to agreement, and 
brought the parties lovingly together. 

It was, after having heard of a bitter dispute between 
two brothers, in which both displayed Ijlind rage and re- 
sentment, the quarrel unfortunately resulting in the death 
of one of the disputants, that, without the slightest refer- 
ence to them or their controversy. Parson Blair wrote his 
versification of the " Tale of the Cobbler and his Shoe :" 

"A cobbler, blythe and debonair. 
Whose shop and song were all his care, 
Had an old shoe one day to mend. 
Which baffled both his awl and end. 
It was of such a curious cast 
He couldn't lit it to his last ; 
And as repeatedly he tried, 
Now turning this, then t'other side. 
And always finding something wrong. 
Fainter and fainter grew his song. 
At length quite mute the man became. 



280 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Not knowing what or whom to blame, 
And, sullen, looked about to see 
'Whatever could the matter be.' 
Then try'd once more, but all in vain, 
'Twas just the same thing o'er again. 
The cobbler, being thus perplext, 
And at the shoe completely vext, 
Took aim against the harmless wall, 
And hurled the shoe and last and all; 
But as he threw without reflection, 
He missed, of course, the right direction, 
And threw them, by mishap, alas ! 
Directly through a pane of glass. 
A while in angry mood he sat. 
And by himself exclaimed, 'Take that.' 
He then went out to pick them up. 
And throw them by within his shop ; 
But in returning, as he drew 
Near to his shop, his anger grew; 
He told the shoe, ' As you're to blame. 
You shall go back the way you came.' 
He threw, but missed his aim again, — 
The shoe went through another pane. 
And further to increase his ire. 
He found he'd thrown it in the fire. 
Reader, in this you have a view 
What mischief a blind rage may do.*' 

The misfortune in all such matters is, that each partj 
charges the entire blame on the other, when nine times 
in ten each is equally at fault. Ladies particularly, we 
hate to say it, cannot — will not — refrain from giving the 
last word, forgetting the old adage, "The last tag is 
poison." If gentlemen do so too, be it so ; let them take 
it to heart likewise; we will not give advice and then 



THE COBBLER AND HIS SHOE. 281 

present in our own persons an example of deviating from 
it. Where reconciliations are desiral)le, the fewest words 
said are the soonest mended. 

Parson Blair said : " He told the shoe, as you're to 
blame, you shall go back the way you came." But for 
this M'Ord shall, the matter might have been adjusted. 
"But what right has he to order me?" says the other. 
" In the first place, he knows he is to blame himself. If 
I do not choose to go back, he shall not make me. I will 
see him in — (Guinea, to put it mildly,) before I'll go that 
way, for him or anybody else." Of course he misses his 
aim — he has shown his anger ; it has done no good ; he 
has only made it worse. Then, to inci'case his ire, he 
has thrown the fat into the fire, and it has blazed up with 
uncjuenchable flame. The consequence is, neither will 
give up or relax in the slightest particular, though the 
difliculty is of less importance even than this little trifle. 
Each is too stout to yield one iota, and will not consent 
to make concessions for fear of admitting that he is to 
blame, but requires apologies from the other side. 

Parson Buchanan would say, " Now, my friend, this 
estrangement on both sides is easily composed. It is not 
necessary for either to make concessions. Write a kind 
note, and say you ask no concessions. There has been 
some misunderstanding, no doubt, but let it pass. We 
are brothers, (it may be neighbors,) let us forget and for- 
give, and come together in kindness and love." Hard 
must be the heart that will not soften and thaw after 
such an appeal. 

Sometimes it is true, as Solomon says, " A brother of- 
fended is harder to be won than a strong city, and their 
contentions are like the bars of a castle." But strong 
cities have been taken by stratagem, and the bars of 
many a castle have yielded to love. 

Tliere is no quotation in the Bible that was used by 
18 



282 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

Parson Buchanan of tener to his commanicants than, " If 
thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that 
thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy gift 
before the altar, and go thy way ; first be reconciled to 
thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." 

" Parson Buchanan," said sister Margrave, when he 
called to see her, " do you know that Brother Courtney 
has been endeavoring to induce Brother Thompson to 
quit your congregation, and join the Baptist Church ? 
And they do say that Brother Thompson is mean-spirited 
enough to do it. I have no opinion of such people, and 
less of their religion." 

" Let us," said the Parson, " reason the matter over 
without feeling or passion. If it be true, as you say, I 
see nothing wrong in it. In the first place, Brother 
Thompson is a man of mind and capacity, and is compe- 
tent to judge for himself what church he prefers. If he 
thinks he will be made a better man by the change, why 
should he not make it ? You cannot prevent it. Opposi- 
tion in such matters is certain to confirm the person in 
his determination. When you have lived as long as I 
have, you will find that the human mind cannot be con- 
trolled by coercion in religion. The Baptists have as 
many good people among them as there are in other 
churches, all things considered. Brother Courtney is a 
most estimable man, and will not lend himself to an im- 
proper or mean act. I shall be pleased to see his church 
thrive. If Brother Thompson, after investigation, prefers 
that denomination, why should he not join it? Suppose 
Brother Courtney should come to me and say, 'Brother 
Buchanan, I have ])een thinking over the matter, and I 
intend to join the Episcopal Church.' Would joii have 
me say, ' No, sir, you shall not ; it is a mean thing ' ? In 
either case, I think such an act ought not to be con- 
demned." 



MODE OF DISCHARGING PAROCHIAL DUTIES. 283 

" But," said she, " they ought not to be underhandedly 
undermining you or your congregation. I despise the 
whole set." 

" I hope not," said Parson Buchanan. " What would 
you do with the Mahommedans, and all the other religions 
that God has permitted to exist in the world ? If they ap- 
ply to join our churches, must we slam the door in their 
faces ?" 

"Ah! but they are not Christian churches." 

" But the Baptist is a Christian church ; and though in 
one sense there is but one church, and all denominations 
of Christians belong to it, yet in common parlance there 
are many churches. We are all commanded to go forth 
and bring all outsiders into the fold, and these are at 
liberty to unite themselves to any denomination they may 
select. Toleration in religion is the only thing to bring 
about that consummation. Above all things, sister Mar- 
grave, let us have no contentions, nor strifes, nor envy- 
ings, but brotherly love, and charity for all denomina- 
tions." 

But Parson Buchanan was not satisfied with this en- 
deavor to calm the troubles that were brewing, and to 
allay this unnecessary excitement. He made it a point 
to call upon brother Courtney, and in a kind, frank man- 
ner, told him the circumstances as they had been re- 
counted to him ; assured him he did not participate in the 
ill-feeling excited by this sul)ject; that he conscientiously 
thought every man had an undoubted right to select the 
church which he believed would contribute most to his 
own edification. Brother Courtney had the undoubted 
right to welcome Brother Thompson to his fraternity. 
For his part he delighted in hearing of the success of all 
the churches, and would rejoice to welcome all Christians, 
no matter whence they came." 

This frankness and liberality gratified Brother Court- 



284 THE TWO PARSONS. 

ney, and the two good men continued working in har- 
mony and friendship to the end of their days. 

There was a young married couple in liis congrega- 
tion, remarkably amiable and pleasant before marriage, 
who were surrounded with every comfort, but evidently 
becoming estranged from one another, and apparently 
without cause. He said to himself, such a case is really 
very much like monomania; easily cured if subjected to 
proper treatment in the incipient stages; but not to be re- 
stored to its normal condition when the mind becomes 
thoroughly diseased. So he called in the morning, under 
the expectation that the thoughts that were uppermost 
would be sure to be elicited during tlie conversation. He 
was ushered into the parlor, and ]:>efore taking his seat 
was looking at the old family portraits hanging in the 
room. 

In a few moments, Mrs. Smith, whom he admired for 
her youthful gayety, frank, open manners and kind heart; 
and who was, beyond doubt, one of the handsomest ladies 
of her day, came in, and received him in a most cordial 
and friendly manner. 

" Emily," said he, " I am so glad to see you looking so 
happy and cheerful tliis morning. You are as bright as 
a May morn." 

"Ah!" said she. "Mr. Buchanan, the face is not 
always the true index to the state of the mind. I mope 
and fret myself into a fever sometimes, and can't help it." 

" Oh ! but you ought not to do that. Take things by 
the smooth handle," said the good man. " Contentment 
is a first-rate recipe to cure the mopes, and fretting only 
adds fuel to the flame; the fretter irritates himself." 

"But, Mr. Buchanan, I will leave it to you. Don't 
3^ou think I have enough to make one mope and fret ? 
Only look at this room ! My husband, possessed of ample 
means, has brought me to this fine old house, which, with 



MODE OF DISCHARGING PAROCHIAL DUTIES. 285 

a little taste, might be made a mansion worthy of any- 
body's care or ambition. He wishes to keep everything 
in the style it was when Methuselali dwelt on the earth, 
and groans and sighs because I w^ant to sweep out the old 
rubbish and modernize the room. Now, just look at it ! 
I have no patience. Look at these old pictures." 

"I was just admiring their quaintness," said he. 

" Quaintness, indeed !" said she. " There hangs old 
Mr. Smith, and there the first Mrs. Smith and the second. 
Mrs. Smith ; and there is old Mr. Smith's pa, and old 
Mrs. Smith's ma. Did you ever see anything so prim, 
stiff and starched ?" 

Parson Buchanan saw that this was the pinch of the 
game. She had put her foot down, and there was no use 
to tell her it was a small matter. It had become life and 
death — a fight or a foot race. But she continued. 

" There's that first Mrs. Smith's first little baby, with 
its little fat hands and fat legs, and dumpy fingers and 
dumpy toes. I shall die if I am to be stuck up here all 
my life with all these dead people. What do I care 
about old Mr. Smith's grandpa, and the first Mrs. Smith 
and the second Mrs. Smith ? Now, dear Mr. Buchanan, 
just look here! Look at that old wax box on the mantle 
piece. Noah's ark! There's General Washington's old 
brass stirrup. My husband prizes that more than he 
does me. Rattlesnakes' rattles, Indian arrow-heads, old 
Admiral Noah's snuff-box, and Mrs. Noah's pin-cushion. 
Who cares for wax flowers when we can step into the 
garden or greenhouse and gather any variety of real beau- 
tiful flowers, far superior to any old Mrs. Smith could 
make? Who wants a dead humming-bird sticking on a 
wire, with his bill in a wax flower, and all as stiff as a 
poker, when she can see humming-birds, with green and 
gold, drinking real honey out of jessamine cups, and 
coming into the greenhouse, then, for variety's sake, 



286 THE TWO PARSONS. 

flitting away in an instant? Noah might have taken the 
old box into the ark, to remind him of his flower garden 
before the flood. Wouldn't I give the world just to up- 
set the whole room — pitch the old wax box out of the 
window, stuff the pictures into the garret, and have an 
old-fashioned revolution. Now, dear Mr. Buchanan, do 
help me to persuade Mr. Smith to take the old wax box 
out. You do not know how it will contribute to my 
happiness. I do believe he would give up his life before 
he would let it be moved one inch and a half. Indeed , 
if it stays there much longer I shall go raving mad. 
Look at these old chairs. They can't be broken ! Would 
you believe it ? I tried the other day to have the legs 
sawed oif : one of them, to make it low enough for me to 
sit down in comfort, but it could not be done, because old 
Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith's pa, eighty years ago, had them 
made out of the best seasoned oak in the w^oods, and to 
make them stronger, actually bored holes in the legs and 
inserted iron rods the whole length, so that the carpenter, 
when he went to saw them off, broke out the teeth of the 
saw against the iron. And now I am obliged to sit here 
with my toes scarcely touching the floor. No wonder my 
friends And me moping and fretting. Now, dear Mr. 
Buchanan, do help me to persuade Mr. Smith." 

As she uttered the last sentence, Mr. Smith, who used 
to be one of the most cheerful, gay and happy men I ever 
saw, full of life and animation, walked . slowly into the 
room, with downcast looks and dejected mien; sighing 
deeply, he put down his hat and seated himself in an old 
arm chair, his young wife passing out at the opposite 
door. 

The Parson felt that this was not the happy man he 
once knew; that this was not the merry, light-hearted 
girl that once was the joy of the company in which she 
moved. That these two young people had made each 



MODE OF DISCHARGING PAROCHIAL DUTIES. 287 

other miserable about little nothings, when they were 
sarrounded by every comfort, and when, by a little yield- 
ing to each other's tastes, or even whims and fancies, every- 
thing might have been smootli and fair l)etween them. 
He shook hands with Mr. Smith, and in a kind voice, 
said, " Well, Edward, I am delighted to see you and your 
pretty wife so comfortably fixed here in our neighbor- 
hood. How liappy you should both be." 

Scarcely raising his eyes, and sighing as if the thought 
would break his heart, he replied : " Ah ! Mr. Buchanan, 
I do not talk of these matters to everybody ; but you are 
discreet, and I have confidence in your judgment. You 
do not know what cause I have for moping and sighing. 
When I first became acquainted with Emily she was the 
sweetest tempered girl I ever saw ; she had the lightest, 
gayest heart, and her face was all smiles. She was kind 
to everybody ; went to the prayer-meetings, and taught 
in the Sunday-schools. Now she won't go near them ; 
pouts and frets, and won't put her foot inside of the 
church or the school-room. Here we have every comfort 
around us, and I would take so much pleasure in keeping 
up the old mansion just as my father and his father left 
it, and yet nothing pleases her. She wants to tui-n every- 
thing upside down. Even these old pictures — my vene- 
rable ancestors, whom I have been taught to revere — she 
turns lier nose up at each of them. Could you believe 
it? She says she will not live in this graveyard with 
these tombstones sitting up around her. Indeed, it is 
enough to run a man mad. Then she laughs at General 
Washington's stirrup, and I do believe in my soul, if she 
had her way, she would throw the wax box my grand- 
mother made out of the window. I have no doubt, be- 
fore you leave the house, she will implore you to beg me 
to hide that and the pictures in the garret." And he 
groaned in spirit. 



288 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" Why not permit her to have her way ? " said Parson 
Buchanan. " Go up to her as yon did in old times, and 
say, ' Emily, my dear, you do not like these old pictures 
and sombre things in our parlor ; take them down, and 
hang them up in my study ; order up such furniture as 
you like, and make yourself cheerful. Your cheerfulness 
will make me cheerful, and we shall both be happy. 
Lock the wax box up. Fix the room to suit your own 
notion.' I doubt not she will turn the room upside 
down ; but never mind, let her display her own taste. 
The room will seem gay and cheerful to her ; she will be 
gay and cheerful to you ; her old feelings will gradually 
return ; and when she sees you are determined to make 
her happy, you both will be happy. I should not be 
surprised in a little while, when your special friends 
come to see you, if she should bring out the wax box 
and praise your grandmother's work as a specimen of 
rare art, and hunt up General Washington's stirrup as a 
precious relic, and say, ' I like to keep tliese things be- 
cause Mr. Smith pi'izes them so highly." 

Mr. Smith thought a moment, and then said : " Parson, 
I'll try it." 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

PAKSON BLAIR'S DINNER PARTY. 

PARSON BLAIR had partially recovered from the 
loss of his little boy, and his friends desired to cheer 
him up, and at tlie same time enjoy his agreeable com- 
pany. Parson Buchanan therefore started the Inill by 
sending the following note, which duly came to hand : 

" John Buchanan is coming to take his dinner to-mor- 
row^, nolens volens, with Brother Blair, and such friends 
as Brother Blair may invite. J. B. 



r 



To which tlie following answer was returned : 

" To Brother Buchanan : 

" Come on ; the sooner tlie better. ' Laughter,' they 
say, ' draws nails out of coffins.' We will have several 
taken out of ours. J. D. B." 

Then turning to his wife, he said, " Now, Mary, you'll 
have to stir your stumps^ 

" Stirring stumps won't make a dinner," quoth she. 
As she made this remark, old Paris entered with a box 
on his shoulder, which he placed on the floor. On the 
top was a card with these words, " Mr. Mutter hopes his 
Reverence, Mr. Blair, will accept the within." When 



290 THE TWO PARSONS. 

the box was opened, it was found to contain a dozen bot- 
tles of choice old cogniac. 

John Mutter was an old friend of the Parson, and the 
father of Dr. Mutter, who subsequently was professor of 
surgery in the Jefferson Medical College of Philadelphia. 

The following reply was indited impromptu : 

" I wish I had a couplet handy, 
To thank that Mutter for his brandy. 
I can't conceive what he can find 
In me to render him so kind ; 
But kindness in his heart revolves. 
And this all difliculty solves. 
Without expecting to receive 
A quid pro quo, he loves to give. 
]!^ot long ago, with same design, 
He sent a demijohn of wine, 
With whicli, when B. an hour would pass, 
We drank his health in sparkling glass; 
And noM', as still I find no lack, 
1*11 do the same in Cogniac. 
Hence his good health he'll keep the longer. 
By reason that the brandy's stronger. 

" J. D. B." 

He determined to take Mr. Buchanan at his word, and 
invite Mr. Munford to meet him, and with the invitation 
to enclose a copy of the foregoing, as he said, "to let him 
see in part what he had to expect." Mr. Munford added 
this emendation, to be sent to Mr, Mutter : 

" Then come to-morrow ; we will taste it, 
Sip it, smell it — never waste it ; 
At halfpast two we'll draw the cork, 
Por want of corkscrew, with a fork." 



PAKSON BLAIr's DLNNER PARTY. 291 

And liere is tlie easj-fiowing invitation to friend Mim- 
f ord : 

"Dear Sir: 

"If you will come to-day to dinner, 
On turkey, with good stuffing in her, 
And bring your pretty Sally, too, 
By three o'clock, or rather two. 
We'll gladly entertain your suite, 
And give you many thanks to boot. 
Excuse, I pray, this, petit chose, 
I have not time to write in prose. 

"J. D. B." 

Answer : 

" I've hardly time to write in verse, 
Since now-a-days my rhymes are terse, 
Yet let me say, as I'm a sinner, 
I've still an appetite for dinner ; 
And in your house we always find 
Food for the body and the mind. 



"W. M." 



ISTote on the above by J. D. Blair : 
" This answer is a rich repast. 
And shows that I wrote prose at last. 
'Twas all hap-hazard, hit or miss; 
But Phcebus' self indited this. 
There's in the true poetic vein 
Something that I could ne'er attain ; 
And if the muse don't serve me better 
Next time I go to write a letter, 
I am determined I will prose it, 
Nor do I care how soon she know^s it. 
The jilting, laughter-making wench. 



292 THE TWO PAKSONS. 



Set me a blundering too in French; 
And as a sample of her cheat 
Made me write petit for petite ! 
And tlien she whispered in my ear 
In my own skin henceforth t'appear ; 
Quoting the maxim with a slam, 
' Ne sutor ultra crepidam.'' 
Well, from this time I say farewell ; 
But, first for spite, the truth I'll tell : 
Not one, I say, of all the nine, 
Nor Phcsbus' self, is quite Divine. 

"J. D. B." 

"It happened, whether by concert with Parson Buch- 
anan or not we are not able to say, but on the next 
morning Mr. Thos. Rutherfoord sent old Joe, his carriage 
driver, with one of the nicest legs of nnitton that the 
market afforded, accompanied with this note: 

"Rev. J. D. Blair: 

"Tell Mrs. Blair to cook it to-day with caper sauce, 
and I'll come and help you eat it. We will worry it 
down with something, I venture to affirm. T. R." 

Answer. 
"Dear Sir: 

"I had just told Mrs. Blair 'to stir her stumps for 
dinner,' and she had said 'she had no stumps to stir.' 
Now, Brother Buchanan has sent her a turkey, and he 
is coming to eat that; and you a leg of mutton, and 
Mutter has sent me some cogniac, and he is coming to 
uncork that. I think we will be able to worry them 
down. 

" You know when I sent my runlet to you to fill, Kin- 
caid said we had better fill it with water. If you think 



PARSON BLAIr's DINNER PARTY. 293 

SO, we will lock up the cogniac and send down to the 
spring. Mr. Munford is also coming to dine with us» 
Mrs. Blair thinks the stumps will stir now. 

"J. D. B." 

It is a remark often made, " that it never rains bnt it 
pours," and the application is frequently made to the 
affairs of life, and not unfrequently with great force and 
truth. So it was on the present occasion. Present after 
present came in rapid succession to Parson Blair. 

After breakfast a cart was driven to the door, and the 
driver handed in the following note : 

" John J. Werth begs leave to present his most affec- 
tionate regards to Mr. and Mrs. Blair, with sincere wishes^ 
for their health and happiness through many seasons yet 
to come, and begs their kind acceptance of a New- Year's 
cake, in a barrel of family flour." 

The good man sat down with overflowing heart, and 
immediately returned the following answer : 

" I thank you for your New-Year's cake. 
Which came in welcome hour, 
And hope that of it you'll partake 
Whenever in your power. 

"Pve often found just such a friend. 
Who proves a friend indeed ; 
Such, a kind Providence shall send 
In every time of need. 

"And still on Tliin my hopes rely. 
That He my friends will bless, 
And all my little wants supply, 
And all my wrongs redress. 



294 THE TWO PARSONS. 

"I say to such as wish me ill, 
Perhaps I've been to blame; 
I feel their enmity, but still 
My love is all the same." 

Just before the arrival of the expected guests, as Par- 
son Blair was making his preliminary preparations, he 
saw his wife engaged in an occupation that gave him a 
ludicrous thought. Without appearing to notice it, he 
treasured it up in his mind for future use. 

For her dessert, sister Rutherfoord had sent her a 
large bowl of calf's-foot jelly, and sister Adams two 
shapes of blanc-mange ; one, representing a nest, full of 
eggs ; the other, a dove brooding on its nest. She had 
made a beautiful cake from some of friend Werth's 
family flour (Gallego's best) ; and had prepared a potato 
pudding, which had been cooked very brown and beau- 
tifid, but when the cook attempted to take the lid from 
the oven, it slipped from her hands, and the edge, falling 
upon the pudding, had not only deeply indented one side, 
but had filled it with ashes and embers. The good wife, 
as most ladies would have been, was in what they call 
*' a peck of troubles." It was too late to cook another, 
and the whole unity of her arrangements would have 
been ruined without this head dish. She bemoaned it for 
some time, fretted at the cook, sat down with her fingers 
interlaced on her lap, and looked the picture of woe. 
Then suddenly a new thought seemed to strike her. She 
had at breakfast a pan of egg-bread, the same size as that 
in which the pudding had been baked. She cut a tri- 
angular slice from the pudding where it was defaced, and 
then, taking its exact dimensions, cut a similar slice from 
the egg-bread, and fitted it with great nicety. She placed 
a pin in the centre of the slice that she might find it, and 
covered the whole with a thin layer of icing. It was as 



PAKSON BL air's DINNER PARTY. 295 

pretty a disb as need grace any dessert. She breathed 
freer, and looked composed and self-approving. Her 
sister, Mrs. Radford, sent her by her daughter, Mrs. 
Munford, a basket of luscious oranges. 

The company arrived, and a merry greeting they had. 
No formality or stiffness ; there "svas an ease that said un- 
mistakably, " We are at home." 

" Mutter," said Mr. Eutherfoord, " I am like the giant 
in the story of ' Jack the Giant Killer,' ' Fee, faw, f um ! 
I smell the blood of an Englishman.' I smell the fumes 
of the old cogniac, as sure as you are born." 

" Mr. Munford rejoined, " I take it for grante4 it is all 
ready on the sideboard." 

" We'll be moderate," said Parson Buchanan, with a 
gleeful face. 

The host took the silver ladle, and, stirring it round, 
helped each to a moderate share of first-rate toddy, made 
from the old cogniac, w^ith a slight dash of madeira. 

We have given you a bill of fare, and you know 
whence the materials came. We do not, of course, intend 
to enter into a description of the dinner in all its details. 
When all was ready. Parson Blair, raising his right-hand, 
said, " Our heavenly Father, Thou hast showered upon 
us these bounties. We thank thee from our hearts. 
Forgive us our sins, and continue Thy blessings. We 
ask all in the name of Thy Son. Amen." 

The sisters were enquired after, and the bairns, and 
they spoke of this friend and that, and cracked jokes and 
spun yarns. Then Parson Blair said he had told his wife 
" to stir her stumps in preparing the dinner for his friends, 
and with a woe-begone face she said, ' Stirring stumps 
didn't make dinners.' " 

Upon which she replied, " There are no stumps here." 
" No," said he, " God has given us more than stumps. 
Did I not tell you we would be provided for ? 'Are not 



296 THE TWO PARSONS. 

five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them 
is forgotten before God.' " 

" How beautifnl is that other text," said Parson Buch- 
anan, " ' Why take ye thought for raiment ? Consider 
the lilies of the field, how they grow ; they toil not, neither 
do they spin ; and yet I say unto you, that even Solo- 
mon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.' 
Brother Blair, you have a practical illustration of the 
text. I saw you a short time since with a hat rather the 
worse for wear, and I thought 1 would send you one ; but 
next day 1 knew you received one from a good friend, for 
he gave me a copy of yonr reply. I will read it for the 
benefit of our friends. 

Response to Col. Adams fok His Present of a Hat. 

" On my return on Monday night 
Prom Hanover, in freezing plight, 
I had a present, I was told. 
And then I thought no more of cold ; 
But what it was I had to gness: 
'Stockings,' said I, 'nor more nor less.' 
' It is to wear, but yet, not that.' 
' Oh, then,' said I, ' it is a hat.' 

" It's one of Col. Adams' jokes, 
Who plies with presents preaching folks, 
And never leaves them in the lurch, 
Although he seldom goes to church; 
And yet a sermon he will heed, 
Nor will he see the Parson need, 
Butf to be grateful to my friends, 
I'll make him, in my way, amends. 

" I'll preach hira, if he'll come to hear it,. 
A sermon, hour-long, or near it; 



PARSON BLAIe's DINNER PARTY. 297 

'P'^oh;' said mj wife, famed for advising, 

'He does not want your sermonizing; 

Take my advice, and just rehearse 

His kindness in your kind of verse.' 

' Well, well,' said I, but thought it wrong, 

' I'll pay the colonel with a song !' " 

" I think, brother, I came off much better than our friend, 
Mr. Munford, who went the other day to dine with a 
number of citizens at Mitchell's Spring, wdiere somebody 
stole his elearant new beaver. It was said to have been 
advertised in these words : 

"The other day while at my dinner 
At Mitchell's Spring, some thievish sinner, 
Well versed in tricks, the like o' that. 
Purloined my new $10 hat." 

"Yes," said Mr. Munford, "that's Mr. Blair's version 
of the matter. I lost the hat, but being one of the lilies 
that Solomon could not vie with, the Almighty enabled 
me to provide myself with another." And so they went 
on cracking jokes upon each other, and drawing nails out 
of coffins by hearty laughter. 

When the meats were removed, and Mrs. Blair had set 
her dessert out, and everything looked nice and inviting, 
and all had taken a glass of Matter's old maderia, the good 
brother, mindful of the occupation in which he had seen 
his wife engaged before dinner, said : " Brother Buch- 
anan, you have always agreed with me, that my wife was 
the most notal^le housekeepeer in the world. She beats 
the gude wife of auld Rabbie Burns; for that gude wife 
'gars auld claithes look amaist as weel's the new;' but 
my wife not only mends old clothes and china and glass- 
ware, but is a first-rate hand at mending broken puddings." 

" Now, Mr. Blair !" cried the wife. 
10 



298 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

"Would you believe it?" continued parson Blair, " the 
pudding before her is a patched pudding ! Cousin Sally,"' 
said he to Mrs. Munford, " now look close, and you will 
see a pin's head protruding. That's the part tliat is 
patched. There is not a crack in it you see. My dear," 
he said, " please give me the piece with the pin in it. I 
have taken a great fancy for that piece." 

So, understanding his humor perfectly well, she cut out 
the egg-bread slice and sent it to him, remarking, in per- 
fect good humor, " Now, for your smartness, you are en- 
titled to that slice, and the icing will make it palatable, 
the rest we will share witli our friends." 

"Well, well, well! dear, dear! I think I've got the 
worst of the bargain by that move." 

But the pleasantry produced, as was intended, a heart}'' 
laugh, and all went on smoothly again. 

In cutting one of the oranges, Mr. Mutter's knife 
slipped, and he slightly cut his iinger, when Parson Buch- 
anan said: "I am reminded, brother Blair, of a story I 
read a few days ago about a Frenchman and a barber. 
The Frenchman, a lean, lank, cadaverous fellow, entered 
the barber's shop to be shaved, and, having lost his side 
teeth, his cheeks were so sunken that the barber was 
obliged to insert his iinger in the Frenchman's mouth, 
and press out the cheek to enable him to get at the beard. 
While the operation was going on, the Frenchman sud- 
denly sprang from the seat : ' Mestaire, you cut ze cheek 
tlirough and through. Is dat ze way you shave ze gentle- 
mens, by gar?' 

" The barber, holding up his own bleeding linger, said : 
^Your vile lantern-jaws have made me cut my iinger to 
the bone.' 

" ' You cut ze cheek, and zen you cut ze lingair, by 
gar ; and you call zat ze clean shave, hey ? Suppose you 
cut ze throat !" 



PARSON BLAIe's DINNER PARTV. 299 

"Dear, dear!" said Parson Blair. "The idea of blam- 
ing the Frenchman's jaws for cutting his own finger 
through them ; and lantern-jaws — so thin joii might see 
through them !" 

. So they went on, and when all were satisfied they 
passed into the parlor to prolong their pleasantries. 

"The last time I dined with Mr. Munford," said the 
Parson, "my terrier and Mr. Munford's cat had a terrific 
fight, and we have had a correspondence about it; or 
rather, I wrote a note to the cat, and she answered it, 
and, as this is an occurrence that does not often happen, 
I will read it for the benefit of our friends. I rather 
suspect Mr. Munford held the cat's paw when she wi'ote ; 
but this is a matter not proven." 

Note from J. D. B. to Grimalkin. 

A generous dog and spiteful cat, 

(A demo, this and federal that,) 

Happened the other day to meet 

At pussy's house, on Munford street. 

When instantl}^, as it appears, 

They got together by the ears. 

The dog, with neighborly intent. 

To pay a civil visit went ; 

But scarcely had he entered in, 

'Till puss began to vent her spleen ; 

She spat and sputter'd, like a fiend. 

And put up every hair on end, 

Then sprang as if she was possesst. 

With teeth and claws upon her guest. 

The dog, as any creature would, 

Then made the best defence he could ; 

And in return gave such a bite 

To puss as made her squall outright. 

'Twas thought the battle now was done. 



300 THE TWO P ARSONS. 

As puss was glad to turn and run; 

But as the dog was going home, 

Puss sallied from anotlier room, 

And gave- him such a scratch behind. 

Where pussy knew the dog was blind, 

As made him hasten his retreat. 

And sent hmi velping through the street. 

This last assault was underhanded, 

For which puss should be reprimanded, 

But then we're not surprised at that, 

For pussy was a Deinocrat ; 

At any rate, the cunning mouser 

Got the last blow at little " Towzer." 

Answer. 

With more respect than needs repeating, 
Puss to his Reverence sends greeting ; • 
She thanks him for his pretty story. 
And for his saying she's no Tory. 
She owns herself a Democrat, 
And pray, sir, where's the harm of that ? 
She serves her country and her friend. 
Suppressing vermin that offend, 
Such as your Federal rats, who eat 
What's not their own, but other's meat ; 
And as for stratagems of war, 
'Tis what she's oft occasion for. 
To save her life and catch her prey. 
And keep her numerous foes away ; 
But one thing, sir, she must deny, 
She did not squall, and scorned to fly ; 
Indeed (for truth is lier delight,) 
She fairly put the dog to flight, 
Who, being Federal, could not hite. 

W. M, 



PARSON BLAIe's DmNER PARTY. 301 

Rejoinder. 
To Grimalkin, by the Rev. J. I). B. 

We're told, 'though not exactly when, 

That beasts could once converse like men, 

And J5sop gives us a narration 

Of many a beastly conversation. 

They met in council, it is stated. 

And sagely />rc> and con debated. 

Especially when 'twas the question, 

Who was best fitted foi- the " gestion " 

Of their concerns in peace and war. 

By wisdom, or the " ruses de guerre /" 

But yet, I thought 'twas all a joke. 

And that 'twas J^sop's self who spoke, 

Till ruminating o'er the matter, 

I found that monkeys still could chatter; 

Some quadrupeds on two can walk. 

And parrots, we all know, can talk; 

And it appears in black and white, 

That even now a cat can write, 

Unless she called in foreign aid. 
And did whatever she was made ; 
For who could think that e'en a cat 
"Would own herself a Democrat ? 
But if 'twas you that wrote indeed, 
I take for granted you can read. 
Accordingly I send you these 
To con them over at your ease; 
For I'd not have you miss your prey, 
Should a sleek mouse fall in your way. 
I may be wrong, but yet I thought, 
In the late battle which you fought, 
That I heard something like a squalling 
Which some, perhaps, call caterwauling; 
And you'll acknowledge after all, 



302 THE TWO PARSONS. 

That if she will, a cat can squall. 

And as for running, I av^er, 

I saw yonr tail turn'd towards the cur ; 

But afterwards you faced about. 

And fairly scratched poor Towzer out. 

His handling, to be sure, was rough, 

But you were conqu'ror, that's enough, 

^sop informs us once, that pug 

Gave a poor cat a gallic hug ; 

For as he had a great desire 

For chestnuts roasting in the fire ; 

When they were done, he cast about 

To see which way to get them out. 

And, contrary to every law, 

The cunning rogue took puss's paw; 

And tho' he knew it would provoke her. 

He used it as he would a poker, 

And one by one the fellow rolls 

The chestnuts from the burning coals. 

A cat's-paw ever since it's called: 

But then, I guess, poor pussy squall'd." 

On such occasions, nothing seemed to gratify Parson 
Blair more than to run a pleasant rig upon " Cousin Mun- 
ford," as he called him. The good man had fallen into 
this habit because his wife always called Mrs. Munford 
cousin, though she was in truth her niece. There was 
something so unsuspecting and kind in Mr. Munford's 
manner that the Parson was induced to believe he was 
easily imposed on by those who were keen at a bargain. 
Whenever, therefore, he could hear of any incident which 
called forth this trait in his character, it was his delight 
to make some ludicrous allusion to it. 

Mr. Rutherfoord had told him that on one occasion he 
was paying an evening call at Mr. Munford's. Sitting 



PARSON BLAIr's DINNER PARTY. 303 

in the porch just about dusk, a countryman came by, cry- 
ing " Chickens, butter, eggs and vegetables." Mr. Mun- 
ford looked at the chickens, found them a shilling apiece, 
and told the man to take six of them to the back yard, 
giving him a dollar. When he had gone, he found only 
five had been left. 

This was a nut for Parson Blair which he did not fail 
to crack. He made Mr. Rutherfoord tell tJie incident 
again, which he did, with some emendations, making it as 
laughable as possible. 

Parson Blair said there had been a correspondence upon 
the subject, and as it was in the Sc;otch dialect, he would 
read it for the sake of brother Buchanan and Mr. Ruther- 
foord. 

"I've heard as how some country chiel, 
Wha broui^ht ve chickens in a creel, 

Play'd 3^e a pi-ank; 
Accustomed likely to such tricks, 
He sold vou five instead of six, 

J^eaving a 

" Pha?bus ayont the western hills 
Had just retired, and at his heels 
Twilight succeeded. 
What time the people hae their e'en, 
Things are but indistinctly seen. 

And no much heeded. 

"But tent me, Creif. this dousie joke, 
He wha kens Littleton on Coke, 

And Blackstone to it; 
He wha kens a' the beuks' report. 
And a' the usages o' court. 

He'll mak' vou rue it. 



304 THE TWO PARSONS. 

"P. S. — Bat hold, since penning the abune, 
I learn the thing was righted soon, 

Just upon sight : 
The honest man, still unco willin' 
To do what's just, paid back a shillin', 

Sae a' was right." 

Mr. Munford, gratified to find that this little incident 
had afforded the Parson amusement, and had called forth 
the outpouring of his muse, sent in return a note, imitat- 
ing his Scotch, and showing his kind regard. 

" Pve read your lines of Scottish verse. 
As if your mither tongue were erse, 
Sae daft ye spell 'em ; 
Not tuneful Rabble's sel', nor Allan, 
The flower of highlan' bards and lawlan', 
Could e'er excel 'em. 

*' Yet since ye're not a man o' law, 
As 'tis my trade, I'll point a flaw 

That's in vour datfln' : 
Auld Littleton ne'er wrote on Coke : 
Ye read them backwards for the joke, 
Sae fond o' lauirhin' ! 



"& 



" But for a man who never leuks 
In ony but in goodly beuks, 

'Twas weel eneugh. 
Law beuks ye dinna ken nor spier, 
But leave to those who toil for gear, 
In war Idly sugh. 

" 'Tis yours to form the youthful mind 
To virtue's bent to be inclined, 
And lessons teach, 



PARSON BLAIk's DINNER PARTY. 305 

Derived from God's most holj bairn, 
Whence a' divine instruction learn 
Wha hear ye preach. 

" Hence comes your gaiety of heart 
And canty rhymes ye can impart, 

Baith douce and funnie. 
Could I thy pattern copy weel, 
I wad be sure a sonsie chiel', 

And unco bonnie. 

" Aiblins I might, if ye'd come hither. 

And aftener let us chat thegither. 

Nor rin away, 

As soothly, I must say, last night 

Ye did, ' as if 'twere out o' spite,' 

And wadna stay. 

" W. M." 

As we have said, Parson Blair was one of those men 
who must have ^he last blow in merriment or kindly com- 
pliment, so he returned the following ^^ rejoinder''\- 

" 'Tis unco strange, in my opinion, 
A native o' the ' Old Dominion,' 
Should just take up a Scottish pinion. 

And soar right off ; 
But poets, nature's fondest pride. 
Are by hersel' wi' wings supplied. 
Just ready iix'd on ilka side : 

That's plain eneugh. 

" ' Babbie ' and ye may weel shake ban', 
And a' the bards »' Scotia's Ian', 
For near o' kin ye surely maun 
Be to each ither. 



306 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Ye represent them a' by turns, 
But when ye choose your brither Burns, 
The nicest critic scarce discerns 
The ane frae ither. 

" Prentis affirmed ' no Democrat 
Was e'er a bard ' — or like o' that ; 
But je, ye bring it in as pat 

As Burns or Pope. 
Soon as ye dip your pen in ink, 
Wi' utmost ease ye mak' it clink ; 
At core, ye maun be Fed., I think. 

At least wad hope. 

" Now, as to ' Littleton on Coke,' 
My error thankfu' I revoke, 
But must confess it was nae joke. 

In honest sooth ; 
For weel content just wi' the clink o't. 
Wrong as it was at the tirst blink o't, 
Yet at the bit I didna think o't, — 
That's just the truth. 

"J. D. B." 

Wlienever they had a pass at each other of this sort,, 
it was natural they should desire to laugh over it when 
they fell into company together ; and so now, when they 
were all enjoying themselves, such a specimen as this 
could not be hid. 

" Sister Blair," said Parson Buchanan, " I regret ex- 
ceedingly that my little Pet is not at home to-day." 

" So do I," she replied, "for I know she will be sadly 
disappointed when she learns that our friends have all 
been here in her absence. She has been down at ' Pow- 
hatan ' on a visit for a few days." 



PARSON BLAIk's DINNER PARTY. 807 

" Ah ! " said he, " there may be something in the rumor 
that's floating about, then. 'Powhatan' is the seat of the 
May OS." And he gave a knowing wink. "Tell her, 
when she returns, that the good woman, Mrs. Brown, 
whom she visited with me, after lingering mucli longer 
than could be supposed, has been gathered to her fathers. 
Everything was done for her that she desired. God has 
raised up friends for her children. Mr. and Mrs. Mun- 
ford have taken the little boys to live with them, and we 
all know they wilj. not only take care of them, but bring 
them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." 

Upon which Mrs. Munford said : " But, Mr. Buchanan, 
we were actuated a great deal by a sense of gratitude to 
Mrs. Brown." 

" Yes," said Mr. Munford, " when one of our babies 
was born, Sally was very ill, and Mrs. Brown, being in 
the neighborhood, heard of her illness and volmiteered to 
nurse the child, refusing to receive compensation when 
her services were no longer required. We are trying to 
make some return now for her kindness. We did not 
hear of her illness and suffering until she was near her 
end." 

"And so in converse, grave and gay. 
They passed tlie pleasant hours away." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE IMPOSITION UPON PARSON BUCHANAN, AND HOW HE 
TURNED IT TO ADVANTAGE. 

PARSONS are not exempt from the deceptions to 
which other men are subject. From their unsus- 
picious dispositions and charitable feelings, they are fre- 
quently induced not to scrutinize the conduct of others 
very closely, or judge their fellow men harshly. They 
tire less inclined to imagine evil of others, and are there- 
fore more liable to become the dupes of the harpies who 
prey upon the credulity of society and pick our pockets, 
under the garb of a smooth personal extei'ior and a 
plausible address. They are frequently, therefore, the 
subjects of gross imposition. 

Now, we have seen that Parson Buclianan was a con- 
firmed old bachelor; had no idea, really, of courting any 
lady, though he took great pleasure in pretending to be 
looking out for a helpmate. He professed a great hanker- 
ing for some lively young widow, whose warm heart was 
just recovering from the loss of her companion, "which," 
as he said, "showed itself by the exhibition of a little 
white ribbon, flower, or other insignia, which ladies par- 
ticularly discerned at a glance, and which keen-visioned 
gentlemen might readily discover." 

He was boarding with a most respectable old lady, but 
had an oflice, consisting of two apartments, down on the 
.street leading to Mayo's bridge, where his theological 
library was kept, and where he prepared his sermons. 

One day, while busily engaged in this engrossing occu- 



IMPOSITION UPON PARSON BUCHANAN. 309 

pation, there was a knock at liis door. Answering the 
knock, he ushered into the room a delicate, slender young 
gentleman, with a rather feminine voice, dressed in clothes 
suitable to a preacher, but with uncommonly small hands 
and feet, the former unusually soft. After being motioned 
to a chair, and selecting a seat on the sofa, he took from the 
breast pocket of his coat a small memorandum book, be- 
tween the leaves of wliich was a letter, which he handed 
to the Parson. 

It was addressed to the "Rev. John Buchanan, Rich- 
mond," and purported to come from two well known 
ministers of the Episcopal Church in the city of Boston. 
It stated that the "Rev. Peter Smith," who was the 
bearer of the letter, was a highlv talented and well ac- 
credited minister of the Episcopal Church, lately ordained, 
was of limited means and of delicate constitution, and 
threatened with consumption. He had been advised by 
his physician to travel through the Southern States for 
his health. He was of estimable character and well con- 
nected in Massachusetts, and any assistance given him 
in money would be worthily bestowed, and upon his res- 
toration to his friends promptly returned. 

Upon reading the letter. Parson Buchanan remarked 
" that he had not the pleasure of a personal acquaintance 
with the writers, though he knew them by reputation." 

Mr. Smith said " they were two of the best men in the 
State of Massachusetts, that they preached to very large 
congregations, and were highly esteemed for learning and 
piety." 

" How lono; have vou been in the ministry ? You 
seem to be very young." 

"Yes," said he, "but I am older than I appear to be; 
and I have been preaching nearly five years. My health 
failing, I have gradually declined, until you see I have a 
hectic flush in my cheeks; and then," (suddenly cough- 



310 THE TWO PARSONS. 

ing violently,) "you perceive, sir, I am afflicted with a 
severe cold that has affected my lungs, and once or twice 
caused severe hemorrhage. The other day I was taken 
sick in Baltimore, and was detained so long by the attack 
that my funds have run very low, and I am unable to 
proceed to my destination. I would not have presented 
the letter of credit which you hold, but from necessity, 
and I certainly expect to return any advance yon may 
make as soon as my remittances arrive." Here another 
lit of coughing nearly took away his breath, and he re- 
<}lined on the sofa apparently in extreme exhaustion. 

Parson Buchanan went to him, asking sympathizingly 
if he could do anything to alleviate his cough. 

"Nothing," lie said, but "just to assist him to rise, and 
as the Parson offered his hand, Mr. Smith took it with a 
gentle pressure, and said he would thank him for a glass 
of water, and resumed his former position." 

Our parson, being in eas}^ cii'cumstances, felt no hesita- 
tion in giving him a small amount of money, soliloquizing 
as he gave it, "If we do not assist others, how can we ex- 
pect God to assist us in our need ; and moreover, ' the 
end of the commandment is charity.' " 

He took from his pocket-book a five dollar note, and 
gave it cheerfully to the young brother. This was really 
all that he had about him. 

The young gentleman, blushing deeply, accepted the 
note, but rather showed by his manner that he was dis- 
a'^pointed in the amount. Parson Buchanan, interpret- 
ino- the blush as indicating his disappointment, said, 
" this is all the money I have to-day, but as, under the 
circumstances, it will not aid you materially in your 
journey, and I have authority to draw upon the treasurer 
of the Amicable Society of Richmond for small sums, 
to relieve the pressing necessities of the worthy, I will 
o-ive you a check for an additional amount of twenty 



IMPOSITION UPON PARSON BUCHANAN. 311 

dollars, which you can return to the society when your 
remittances arrive." 

This society had existed nearly twenty years, having 
for its benevolent object the relief of strangers and way- 
farers in distress. At this time Parson Buchanan w^as 
president of the society, and continued such for many 
years, managing its affairs with great prudence, and dis- 
pensing its charities with numberless blessings on the un- 
fortunate. 

While the old gentleman was writing the check, the 
young man remarked: "My two friends, the parsons 
in Boston, bade me enquire particularly whether you 
were still a bachelor, saying that in former days you 
were always pleasantly and jocularly enquiring for young 
widows, and they hoped you had obtained one to your 
taste." 

" No," said the lively old gentleman, " not yet ; I am 
still looking out, but fear, among so many worthy ones, 
either I or they have been a little hard to please." He 
then handed him the check. The newly -ordained min- 
ister thankfully received it, saying : " I think I can show 
you a young widow that would have you at the drop of 
your hat." 

" That's rather too quick on trigger," said Parson 
Buchanan. '"'"'' Fest'ina leiite'' is my motto in such mat- 
ters." 

Thereupon the young minister fell into another ex- 
hausting tit of coughing, and promising to call again, to 
accompany the Parson to church on the next Sabbath 
bowed himself reluctantly away. 

It so happened that as Parson Smith went out of tlie 
door, our friend Dr. McCaw entered. He lived in Par- 
son Blair's neighborhood, was very blunt and free spoken 
and from his constant association with the Parsons, not 
■only admired them most highly, but could take the liberty 



312 THE TWO PARSONS. 

of bantering and joking them pretty much at pleasure^ 
As he entered, he said : " Why, Parson ! Is it possible I 
Have you, too, been imposed on? Do you know that 
this is a woman dressed in man's clothes ? I never should 
have thouo-ht that such an old bird could be caught with 
chaff ! What is the world coming to ? " Then seeing 
that the good man from his manner took it rather seri- 
ously, he changed his tone and laughingly said : " Well I 
that you should have been taken in by such an impostor ! 
I take it for granted she came to get money, and I know 
she got it. Why, I have heard of her in several places 
this morning, and I should not be surprised if she has 
taken in Parson Blair, too. You parsons need a guardian. 
Did you not notice her feet? Didn't she give you her 
little, tender hand ? Didn't you notice her hair, cut 
short, but soft, silky, and inclined to curl ? " 

"No," said the Parson, "I did not; but I did think, 
McCaw, he squeezed my hand rather tenderl3^" 

^^He squeezed, did he ? A man with a bust like that I 
A man with a waist like that! He is a she; that's the 
amount of it." 

"McCaw," said the good man, "that w^as the Rev. 
Peter Smith, from Boston, an Episcopal clergyman, who 
brought me proper credentials vouching for his character 
and standing." 

" The Rev. Peter Fiddlesticks ! " said the Doctor. " No 
more a clergyman than I am. And you took a forged 
letter for genuine ! She is a notorious cheat, a swindler. 
If you can't tell a woman from a man better than that, 
you had better put on a double pair of spectacles next 
time. A baby would have known better." 

The Doctor being so positive, and the Parson begin- 
ning to think he had been imposed on, took his hat and 
cane, and said, " I will go and stop the payment of the 
check." 



IMPOSITION UPON PARSON BUCHANAN. 313 

The Doctor said, " I'll go with you and enjoy the fun." 

They had not gone very far when they met Parson 
Blair coming down tlie street. 

"Whicli w^ay?" says the Doctor. 

"I was just on my way to see Brother Buchanan, 
knowing his admiration of widows, to put him on his 
guard about a Mrs. Peter Smith, a handsome young 
widow, who is dressed in men's clothing, representing 
herself as an Episcopal preacher, and who I lieard had a 
letter for him. She is discovered to be an impostor. 
Have you seen her?" 

"I have," said Parson Buchanan very gravely, "I am 
on my way now to stop the payment of a check I drew 
in her favor on the treasurer of the Amicable Society." 

Parson Blair, from Parson Buchanan's manner, soon 
saw it was a serious matter in his estimation ; but he set 
his triggers and baited his trap to give him time to cool; 
knowing that few men like the idea of being imposed on, 
and not many to be the subject of playful ridicule, so he 
began to sympathize with his friend; but he could not 
help suggesting how much more distressing it would have 
been if it had been himself instead of his friend. 

Said Parson Buchanan, " that's the way of the world ;" 
and smiling, he added, "come along, let's stop the pay- 
ment of the check." 

"Good-bye, Parson," said Dr. McCaw, "take care of 
yourself, or the widow will give you another pressure of 
the hand." 

Says Parson Blair, "What's that? Well! well! Dear 
me ! You surely ought to have another pair of spec- 
tacles, to enable you to distinguish between a man and a 
woman. It would give you the ' second sight.' " 

They went on their way, but arrived live minutes too 
late to stop the payment of the check, and the Parson 
20 



314: THE TWO PARSONS. 

returned to his office, grieving over the wickedness of 
this evil world. 

After a few days had passed, and his best friends had 
run their pleasant riggs upon him in a way to show it 
was all kindly meant, and Parson Blair knew that all 
feeling had been obliterated, and his usual equanimity 
and good humor established, he wrote the following 
soliloquy to Parson Buchanan, advising him to commit 
it to memory, and while slowly pacing across his room to 
speak it in his most approved manner aloud to himself, 
as a'pleasant pastime : 

" It's very hard that I should fear" 
The mortifying jest and jeer 
Of every one I meet in town, 
Whether across, or up, or down, 
Because Miss Smith, whose was the sin. 
By her palaver took me in ; 
I gave her a five dollar note, 
(I wish 'twas down the huzzy's throat,) 
To satisfy her present need. 
And prove myself ' a friend indeed.' 
It can in sooth be said by no man, 
That I could tell it was a woman ; 
But every body must believe 
I knew her not from mother Eve ; 
She was well dressed, in Parson's clothes, 
And hence the whole mistake arose. 
Besides all this, which is much worse, 
(I fume, but parsons must not curse,) 
Upon the Amicable store, 
I gave a check for twenty more; 
Which made — (I hope she'll never thrive), — 
The full amount of live times five." 



IMPOSITION UPON PARSON BUCHANAN. 315 

Instead of answering this soliloquy, remembering Par- 
son Blair's suggestion to him to get a pair of specs to 
enable him to distinguish between a man and a miss, he 
sends him a note, tied around a handsome case, contain- 
ing a pair of gold spectacles, having two sets of glasses, 
one to see through and the other in the corners, intimat- 
ing thereby that brother Blair might himself have occa- 
sion for this second sight. It ran thus : 

" A nativo Caledonise, loci inclyti 
Secundo visu et cacoethe — 
Ad Joannem D. B., 
Cur non dicam D. D. ? 
Accept the specs which now I send; 
They are the present of a friend. 
Upon your text they'll throw more light. 
And eke will give the second sight. 
Yonr answer, I may well suppose. 
Will not be given in simple prose ; 
In rhyme I've gone beyond my pitcli, 
Alas ! from you I got the ?7c/i." 

Everything indicates tlie playfulness of these elder boys. 
Because one was exceedingly fond of inditing amusing 
notes in verse, the other, to give his brother pleasure, 
must imitate his example, and try his hand too. Then, 
having tlie idea that he had acquired the taste for such 
verses from his brotlier, " the cacoethes scrihendi^'' he 
commences his letter by saying, it came from a native of 
Caledonia, a place remarkable for second sight and the 
rage for writing. Then, playing upon the initials of Par- 
son Blair's name, J. D. B., he asks why should I not say 
" D. D.," doctor of divinity, showing how anxious he was 
to elevate him to the highest degree of the ministry. He 



316 THE TWO PAESONS. 

could not help advising him very delicately of the neces- 
sity of his having the second sight himself. 

■ To show that he understood the allusion, Parson Blair 
in his answer, with equal delicacy, without comment, 
simply italicizes the second sight. Not to be outdone 
either in Latin or compliments, he rejoins in French : 

"^ sa Reverence et meine qiCa sainte Reverendissvme 
Episcojpi : 

" Come, gentle muse, now do your best, 
And show your parts at my request ; 
To me you are a friend indeed. 
Helping me out in time of need ; 
Come, and your timely aid impart. 
To speak the language of the heart. 
The kindness of a friend rehearse 
In modest, pure and flowing verse ; 
For as the rhyming taste now goes. 
It will not do ' in simple prose.' 
My thanks, then, courtly nmse, present; 
See here the spectacles he sent ! 
'Twas very thoughtful, very kind. 
To aid the sight of one near blind. 
Whose eyes were growing dim with age, 
Ere 3'ears had rendered him a sage. 
' Upon my text they'll throw more light, 
And eke will give the second sigJd /' 
And furthermore, the two side-glasses 
Will seem to notice all that passes ; 
As if the wary preacher spied 
What folks were doing on each side. 
This will instruct them to l)ehave. 
And make the very flirt look grave ; 
For when I spread 'em out before 'em. 
They'll look upon them in terroremP 



IMPOSITION UPON PARSON BUCHANAN. 317 

The conceit of the wary preacher spying what the con- 
gregation were doing, reminds ns of an anecdote which 
shows it were better for a preacher who has a keen sense 
of the ludicrons not to be able to see all that passes. We 
heard a worthy politician once say, that while he was soar- 
ing in one of his happiest flights, his eye was attracted by 
seeing a man in the gallery of the house bending over the 
banisters with a quid of tobacco in his fingers, sighting 
keenly over a gentleman who, with head thrown back 
and mouth wide open, was gently snoozing in his seat be- 
low. As the quid left his fingers, the aim being accurate, 
it fell directly in his mouth. The unlucky sleeper, wholly 
unconscious of what was the matter, or how it had hap- 
pened, sprang to his feet in great excitement, whilst the 
man in the gallery subsided demurely into his seat. The 
orator irresistibly laughed aloud ; upon which the audi- 
ence, many of whom had followed the speaker's eye, 
burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, which was 
greatly heightened by the savage gravity of the offended 
gentleman. 

Returning from this digression, we feel it a duty to 
say that Parson Buchanan was too good and too liberal 
to permit the Amicable Society to lose the amount of his 
check, but, upon the first opportunity, reimbursed the 
society in full, and added the amount of his own contri- 
bution to Miss Smith besides. 

Upon reperusing the poetical soliloquy which Parson 
Blair had cunningly written for his especial use and com- 
fort, instead of amusing him, as it had done at first, it 
rather threw him into a serious mood, and taking up his 
pen, he said : " It would be well to turn this thing to profit. 
It is a good theme for some future sermon." So he made 
this memorandum in his note-book: 

" Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's 



318 THE TWO PARSONS. 

clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves." — Matt. 
vii. 15. 

" For I know this, that after my departing shall griev- 
ous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock." 
— Acts XX. 29. 

"What shall be done unto thee, thou false tongue?" 
— Psalm cxx. 3. 

" For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, trans- 
forming themselves into the apostles of Christ. And no 
marvel; for Satan liimself is transformed into an angel 
of light."— 2 Cor. xi. 13, 14. 

"Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits, 
whether they are of God : because many false prophets 
are gone out into the world." — 1 John iv. 1—3. 

" These things," he said, " will keep, and thought upon 
thought may be built thereon." 



CHAPTEK XX. 

MISS LULY INGLEDON EEADING A GENTLEMAN'S COUNTE- 
NANCE, AND GIVING HIM AN ANSWEK UNQUESTIONED. 

WE have lost sight for some time of onr sprightly 
teacher and orator of the Female Academy. We 
knew that whenever she " turned out," as the phrase is, 
she could not possibly be long without attracting ad- 
mirers worthy of her varied accomplishments, her merry 
and intelligent face, and her lovely person. 

As Parson Blair said, when he was fishing, " the bait 
had scarcely touched the water before it 'was seized.'^ 
It was not quite as bad as that, but there were several 
glorious nibbles. 

Parson Blair took a peculiar pride in her — we were 
about to say, the master spirit of the Academy, but we 
shall be satisfied with calling her the brightest specimen 
of his skill as a teacher. She was a feather in his cap 
that varied like the plumes of the peacock. She could 
be o;rave or 2;av»in a twinkling: dazzle in the sun with 
the tints of gold and the richness of many hues, and 
would even glisten as the shadows of the passing clouds 
flitted by her. 

We must bring up the intervening events by taking a 
retrospect of what transpired in another family. Our 
readers have had a bird's-eye view of Miss Ingledon, but 
they are ignorant of the circumstances by which she was 
surrounded. She was the only daughter of Mrs. Lucy 
Ingledon, widow of an ofiicer of the Revolution distin- 
guished for his bravery. Airs. Ingledon herself was an 



320 THE TWO PARSONS. 

heiress, and Col. Ingledon, in addition to his own ample 
means, had obtained by his marriage with her a very 
considerable fortune. By luck}' and judicious invest- 
ments this had been greatly increased, and the proceeds 
invested in stocks and eligibly situated houses and lots in 
improving localities in the city. 

Parson Buchanan felt a peculiar interest in little Luly, 
not merely from the scenes at the Academy, but because 
he had officiated at her baptism, had been intimate in the 
family from his first arrival in the country, and especially 
because, just before Col. Ingledon's death, he had sent for 
him, advised with him as to the disposition of his pro- 
perty, and commended his daughter to the good man's 
kindness, hoping he would aid her with religious and 
secular advice. 

Several years had elapsed since the Colonel's death, 
and the mother and daughter had been in comparative 
seclusion; but time had alleviated their affliction. When 
the daughter left the Academy, at the age of sixteen, the 
mother launched l^er into society by taking her in full 
dress to one of the largest parties given dui-ing the winter. 
This was her debut. Mrs. Ingledon was a lady of high 
family connection, and prided herself upon her ancestral 
descent. When Mrs. Blair and herself visited each other, 
as was not unfrequently the case, it w§s a never failing 
source of entertainment to tliem to recall reminiscences 
of noble connections, including high dames and distin- 
guished noblemen. Mrs. Ingledon was somewhat formal, 
possessed a dhtlngue air, and quite a cultivated mind, 
with much refinement of manners. She had been in her 
younger days quite a beauty and a belle. Even now 
some of Parson Buchanan's parishioners would slyl}^ inti- 
mate that if these two were much thrown together it 
would not be very wonderful if he should be captivated 
by her. But the good man, it seemed, possessed a charmed 



MISS LULY INGLEDON. 321 

life, for Cupid's arrows invariably glanced off as they 
ilew towards him. 

The daughter, unlike her mother, was life and anima- 
tion itself; and considering her youth, was easy, graceful, 
playful as a kitten, and demonstrably affectionate. She 
only wanted age and experience to give her the improve- 
ment which intercourse with the best society sooner or 
later generally brings. 

Every one knows that there is something attractive in 
the appearance of fine animals, and it needs no connois- 
seur to point out at first sight a blooded horse. His step 
is elastic and light, his carriage lofty and gay; there is a 
spring in every motion; he is neat and trim, sleek and 
silky. You see at once the genuine blooded stock. So 
you could see that Luly was of the old Virginia stock, 
whose souls scorned a mean action, whose thoughts were 
elevated, whose veins felt the genial warmth of bountiful 
hospitality, and who possessed the dauntless spirit to op- 
pose a manly breast to open or secret foes. When yon 
, saw her, you would say " she was one of these." She 
had a winning way about her, a native, inborn politeness, 
readiness in conversation, cheerfulness, "a laiighin' 
mou','' a joyous smile, and withal a good heart. She 
could, wlien proper, send a deserved satiric shaft and a 
quick repartee tliat displayed intellectual power which 
none could despise. She was a rare compound. There 
was a shade of melancholy, a tinge of sadness, and a ray 
of mirth combined in her face. She had an open counte- 
nance, and yet a downcast modesty that softened and 
sweetened the dash of fearlessness that indicated self- 
possession and character. She would greet you with 
both hands, and where affection was involved, with up- 
turned lips; and yet there was an undeiinable something 
in her manner that indicated the limit beyond which it 
was not safe to venture. 



322 THE TWO PARSONS. 

She had a way of speaking kind things. It was flattery, 
upright and downright — nothing but unadulterated flat- 
tery — and laid on with the blade of a pen-knife, trowel 
or shovel, according to the subject, and as smooth as the 
sculptor's finished cast of a Venus or a Madonna. The 
art was in giving it the polish. You could see the flattery, 
but it was sugar-coated, and helped to enhance the sweet- 
ness. 

Slie had a nickname for each of her beaux, never ad- 
dressing them l,y their real names. She never mistered, 
or coloneled, generaled, or doctored them. She had an 
endearing epithet of her own. It gratified, because it 
looked as if it was used as an evidence of special kind- 
ness. Her manner was difficult to describe. If a gentle- 
man began to be over head and ears in love, and she 
could catch him gazing intently, in loving mood, right 
full at her, she would say, in the most winning manner, 
" I do ;" or ten to one if she didn't take the other tack 
and say, " I'll be switched if you do," or, " No, you don't.' 
The fellow would inevitably be thrown all aback. The 
attack is so sudden, unexpected, direct, he is caught so 
utterly defenceless, that he precipitately retreats, and only 
at his leisure to think " what did she mean " ? 
. We have given you these little insights into Luly's 
character that you may know her the better as we pro- 
gress. We cannot say she was a perfect beauty, for she 
was not ; but notwithstanding, if Cupid and she took a 
notion to smite, you may rely upon it you would be smit- 
ten past redemption. Mrs. Ingleton's house became one 
of the centres of attraction for beaux and belles. They 
found a ready reception there, and the mornings and 
evenings were occupied with gay meetings, pleasant con- 
verse, fine music, and sometimes with an impromptu dance. 
The beaux came flitting around, and some of them, like 
the moth playing about the candle, would flutter ofl^ with. 



MISS LULY INGLEDON. 323. 

wings singed, unable to reach the dazzling prize by which 
they were attracted. 

Among them was one who, though a beau in our 
younger days, was then flourishing like a green bay tree, 
and go when you would, you would find the hat of Mr. 
Nelson hanging on the same peg in the capacious hall, 
or twirling around in his hands over his lap, while he,, 
with genteel mein and pleasant air, would be seated " tete 
a tete " with little Luly, or standing by her side turning 
the music, while she sweetly sang at his request. She 
was decidedly leading him a dance, not caring much 
whether he danced or not. 

Driving along, as she said, holding the reins taut, keep- 
ing the animal up to his metal, but not allowing him to 
get the bit in his mouth. When her companions would 
say, " Flirting, Luly V she would reply, " Keeping my 
hand in ; nothing more." 

It so happened, whether by design or not is not ma- 
terial, that Miss Luly's piano fronted one of the hand- 
some mirrors in the parlor, and while she was playing 
and singing for him one morning, and endeavoring, after 
her manner, to look killiferous, die-away-abus, and " very 
lovey," she looked up in the mirror and saw him looking 
rather more so. Their eyes met through that medium. 
Not the least disconcerted, turning her head a little to 
one side and looking at him direct, she said, " De sparks 
what flashes from dem eyes aint nufhn to nobody. Did 
I catch you, Simon ?" 

She called him Simon from her first acquaintance,, 
without rhyme or reason, as far as any one knows. It 
was her way. 

"Can't I look at you?" he said. 

" Umph-oo," very soft. She turned square around in. 
her chair and faced him. 



324 THE TWO PARSONS. 

"Miss Lilly," lie began, and paused. She said mus- 
ingly but very naively, " Umph." 

"I can't understand, you," he said. 

" Why ? you called my name interrogatively, and I 
said humph as sweet as I could, interrogatively, which 
was as much as to say ' w^hat, Simon V " 

"I was looking at your face, to see whether I could 
read it," he said. 

"And I turned around and looked into yours, and read 
it like a book. I say, No; I thank you. Parson Blair 
used to say when I was at tlie academy, 'Questions are 
the keys of knowledge ;' but they are of no account with- 
out the proper answers. There is a' vast deal of meaning 
in those two letters, No ! " 

" Then am I to V and he paused again and looked 

" We?y loveyr 

" Why, certainly, you are. I do not intend there shall 
be a quarrel between us, Simon. With a gentleman of 
your head and heart, I am not a whit sorter so to-day; 
I am altogether sorter not so. And to save you a great 
deal of trouble, vexation and disappointment, havng read 
your face through the mirror, I put my foot down and 
say, No !" 

"That's pretty decided," said Simon, "without being 
asked," 

" Well ! rather ; but I could add another word, and 
make it more so. Do you want to hear it, Simon ? I'll 
just say it to prevent mistakes. Never !" 

Mr. Nelson rising with hi^ hand stretched forward, said 
" Good-bye." 

Cupid disappeared early daring the interview. Simon 
went liis way, and soliloquized thus : 

" She's a curer ! 'No!' 'Never!' I didn't say a word. 
She read me like a book. Sic transit gloria imindi^'^ 



MISS LULT INGLEDON. 325 

She waited until he was fairlv o-one. Then lookino; 
out of the window as he crossed the street, she said, " It 
w^ill not kill him. He will court somebody else before a 
sixtj-day note will fall due. "We can meet now as if 
nothing unusual had occurred. He will not look kill- 
iferous at me again." 



CHAPTEK XXL 

DINNER AT BUCHANAN'S SPEING— BARBECTTE CLUB. 

WE have endeavored to show, from the materials in 
om' possession, how our worthy Parsons acted on 
various occasions when they were accidentally thrown 
amid worldly amusements, and if our readers will bear 
with us, we shall proceed on our journey. 

Of all the good citizens of Richmond at this period, 
there were but few, we imagine, who had not heard of the 
celebrated Barbecue Club, which held its weekly m eet- 
ings on Saturday, during the summer months, at Buch- 
anan's Spring. This was the delightful retreat on Parson 
Buchanan's farm to which the volunteer companies re- 
sorted for recreation on festive occasions. 

The Barbecue Club was composed, at that time, of 
thirty members, all of high standing, of literary and 
scientific tastes, of genial dispositions and rare social 
qualities. Their humor, wit and knowledge of the world 
rendered their society most attractive. It was indeed de- 
lightful to them and their friends to pass an hour or two 
together when they wished to beguile their cares with 
innocent amusements. It was a pleasure to all to lay 
aside their several occupations, and with them the pomp 
and circumstance of official position, to throw off the 
weight and burden of public affairs, to get rid of the 
bustle, confusion and strife of the bar, the anxieties and 
troubles of frail humanity with which physicians are 
familiar, the quotations of the stock exchange, the deep- 



BARBECUE CLUB. 327 

laid schemes for speculation, and the paraphernalia at- 
tendant on the routine of mercantile life. 

It was considered a great honor to bo elected a member 
of this Club, as it was known that selections were made 
with great care. Two members objecting would prevent 
an election. 

It was not often that a vacancy occurred. The number 
was limited, to avoid the danger of coteries and small 
circles, and to bring all around the social board within 
the range of hearing, allowing each to mingle in jests and 
repartees, and partake of the genial warmth that such 
spirits must elicit. 

Each member was allowed the privilege of inviting one 
guest, but with the restriction that the invitations were 
to be confined to distinguished strangers who might be 
in the city on the day of meeting. This afforded to each 
one the opportunity of becoming personally acquainted 
with them. 

It was considered a special privilege to be elected an 
honorary member of this Club. The governor, during 
his official term, had a standing invitation ; but as far as 
our information extends, there were no other honorary 
members except Parsons Blair and Buchanan. 

To show the class of men who at that day were mem- 
bers of this Club, we will name: John Marshall, the 
eminent jurist, ambassador. Secretary of State, and sub- 
sequently Chief Justice of the United States, with his 
plain, simple, unassuming manners and great intellect; 
Dr. John Brockenbrough, the President of the Bank of 
Virginia, who subsequently managed its affairs with such 
ability and skill ; the great barrister, John Wickham, a 
most courtly and genial gentleman, who pursued his pro- 
fession for more than thirty years with distinguished 
reputation; Dr. William Foushee, the head and front of 
the medical profession of this city; Thomas Ritchie, his 



328 THE TWO PARSONS. 

son-in-law, who had then but Lately established his cele- 
brated Richmond JEnqidrer, and who Avas afterwards 
known as the Napoleon of the press; William Wirt, the 
author, scholar, lawyer, Clerk of the House of Delegates, 
Judge and Attorney General of the United States; 
Philip N. Nicholas, the Attorney General and Judge of 
the Circuit Court of the State, and subsequently President 
of the Farmer's Bank of A^rginia; Daniel Call, a lead- 
ing member of tlie bar, practising in the Court of Ap- 
peals, and the peer of the best law^^ers of that day; 
Thomas Rutherfoord and Charles Ellis, both prominent, 
upright, conscientious, influential merchants of the city; 
Major James Gibbon, the hero of Stony Point; William 
Munford, a member of the Executive Council, subse- 
quently Clerk of the House of Delegates, author of legal 
reports, and translator in blank verse of Homer's Iliad; 
Dr. Peter Lyons, an eminent physician, a gentleman of 
line acquirements and moral worth; Col. John Ambler 
and Col. John Harvie, the Mayor of Richmond and the 
Register of the Land Office, both worthy progenitors of 
illustrious families, each of exemplary character, of wealth 
and great popularity ; James Brown, Jr., then a most 
wortliy merchant and subsequently Second Auditor of 
the State; besides others, equally meritorious, full of life, 
joyous and grave, in every way qualified to add to the 
merriment and sober pleasantries of such a party. 

The meetings of the club were from May to October 
annually. The expenses were met by a regular contri- 
bution, assessed at the commencement of the season, and 
paid in advance to the treasurer. This officer had the 
power to select two members as caterers, who presided 
at the board on the following Saturday. 

At this time Major Gibbon was the treasurer, and he 
had appointed Mr. Marshall and Mr. Wiekham the cater- 
ers ; and as they were hon vivants, and had with them old 



BARBECUE CLUB. 329 

Robin and Jasper Crou(;li, the colored caterers, we are 
certain tliey ol)tained for the dinner the best the market 
afforded. Being connoisseurs in drinks too, they would 
have nothing but the best. The rules of the Club pro- 
hibited wines except upon special occasions. Julep, 
punch or toddy, and porter or ale, were the ordinary 
A drinks. 

On this occasion the following note was addressed by 
the treasurer to Parson Blair; one equally friendly hav- 
ing been sent to Parson Buchanan. 

"To THE E.KV. John D. Blair: 

"Dear Sir: I am directed by the Buchanan Spring 
Barbecue Club, by special resolution, to remind you that 
your presence, as one of the honorary members, is desired 
on next Saturday. We esteem it a great honor for Mr. 
Buchanan and yourself to unite with us in our innocent 
amusements. It greatly enhances our pleasure. Besides 
the interest derived from your conversation, we enjoy the 
contests between yourself and Mr. Marshall in the game 
of quoits. 

" With great respect, your friend, etc., 

"James Gibbon, Treasurer P 

The following answer was received from Parson Blair : 

" I thank, my dear sir, your respectable Club, 
For inviting me still to repair to the hub. 
For I long to achieve, as before, some exploit. 
With my knife and my fork, and in throwing the quoit ; 
For I plainly perceive, tho' advancing in age, 
I shall never become either cynic or sage. 
Your social, gay meetings mu-ch pleasure afford; 
And festive politeness presides at the board. 
Long time have your members been used to repair 
To the spring, from the noise of the town and its air ; 
21 



330 THE TWO PARSONS. 

The merchant hi^ ledger shuts up for awhile. 

And suffers amusement his cai'cs to beguile ; 

The doctors, attentive to cure and to please, 

Give their patients an opiate, and leave them at ease ; 

Your judges and lawyei'S banish hence, too, afar. 

The decisions of courts and the pleas of the bar ; 

They throw aside all the "reports oi the books," 

And assemble Avith pleasure and glee in their looks; 

Our good parish Parson, too, there I see sit, 

And discern in his " e'en " the sure signal of wit, — 

Of wit which the table still sets in a roar. 

By courteous retort or by Innnor in store. 

TMien the dinner is done to the meg we repair, 

And by way of prelude send t>ur »jUoits in the air ; 

Then choosing our partners, each taking his side. 

In friendly contention the parties divide. 

With adroitness and skill every one takes his aim, 

To obtain for his partners the best of the game ; 

He e'en leans to du-ect the quoit after it's flung, 

And all shout and huzza if perchance it has rung. 

This game is athletic, of all things the best 

For bracing the nerves or expanding the chest; 

'Tis productive at once both of pleasure and health, 

Where no cares can intrude, save thev come in bv stealth ; 

It's of ancient renown, for in Yirgil we're told. 

The discus was prized by the Trojans of old. 

Their kind invitation, allow me to say it. 

Is enhanced by the manner in which you convey it ; 

So friendly the note you were pleased to indite. 

And your style of expression so truly polite. 

" Truly, etc., ' J. D. B." 

Parsons Blair's allusions to the good parish Parson and 
his quotation of the Scotch word "e'en," proves his re- 
ference to Parson Buchanan; for he permits no oppor- 



BARBECUE CLUB. 331 

tnnity to escape which will enable him to refer to his old 
friend in the kindest and most friendly manner. **^ 

Mr. Marshall sat at the head and Mr. Wickham at the 
foot of the table. A better dinner of the substantials of 
life was rarely seen. The only dessert they indulged in 
was a steaming, juicy mutton chop, cooked to a turn, and 
"dexdiled ham," highly seasoned with mustard, cayenne 
pepper, and a slight flavoring of Worcester sauce, and 
these were passed along the board. 

After these condiments had been discussed and dis- 
posed of, Mr. Marshall said, " The treasurer had, accord- 
ing to the request of the club at its last meeting, re- 
minded our honorary members, the Rev. John Buchanan 
and the Rev. John D. Blair, that it would be exceedingly 
agreeable to the club if they would meet us on this occa- 
sion, and he was happy to see them both present. He 
was also pleased to have received the written answer of 
Mr. Blair, which he woidd read to the club." This was 
received with marked approbation, each member taking 
the cue from Mr. Wickham and striking the table with 
the handle of his knife in three successive rounds. 

Mr. Marshall then added, "It w^as known to the club 
that two of the members at the last meeting had, con- 
trary to the constitution, introduced the subject of poll- ■ 
tics, which ought to be tabooed here, and though warned 
to desist, had continued the discussion. The consequence 
was that, b}' unanimous vote, they had been lined a basket 
of champagne for the benefit of the Club. They had sub- 
mitted to the imposition like worthy members, and the 
champagne was now produced as a warning to evil doers. 
It was so seldom the Club indulged in such beverages, 
they%had no champagne glasses, and must therefore drink 
it in tumblers." Mr. Wickham begged leave to add, " as 
nobody objects to the tumblers, we will drink to the 
health and happiness of our two lionorary members, who 



332 THE TWO PARSONS. 

have gratified ns with their presence to-day." Parson 
Buchanan immediately said, '' that for himself he had no 
objection to a little wine for his many infirmities," and 
he emphasized the word little ; " but he hoped that those 
who indulged in tumblers at the table would not prove to 
be tumblers nnder the table." Parson Blair promptly 
said, " In looking around he saw so many gentlemen dis- 
tinguished for their oratorical powers and eloquence, that 
he had no fears they would ever sink into bathos, which 
he would define to be the art of tumbling from the sub- 
lime to the ridiculous, and this he considered would be 
the case with tumblers under the table." 

These brief remarks were received with great pleasure, 
and, as Parson Blair had said, " the table was set in a 
roar," and all formality was at an end. 

In a little while those who played quoits quitted the 
table, and, taking their coats off, were full of the game. 
Many of the members did not play, and remained at the 
table in pleasant converse, when jest and story and song 
were the order of the day. 

Parson Blair joined the quoit players, while Parson 
Buchanan remained with the jesters, saying he did not 
see much fun in pitching a quoit. 

Mr. Marshall challenged Parson Blair to make up the 
game, and each selected four partners. Most of those 
who were in the habit of ♦playing had procured for them- 
selves handsome, smooth, highly polished brass quoits, 
which were kept in order by Jasper Crouch. Mr. Mar- 
shall, on tlie contrary, had a set of the largest, most un- 
couth, rough iron quoits, which very few of the Club 
could throw with any accuracy from hub to hub ; but he 
threw them with great ease, and frequently rung the 
meg. It was exceedingly pleasant to witness the eager- 
ness with which such men engaged in this sport, and to 
see with what earnestness they would measure the dis- 



BARBECUE CLUB. 333 

tance of each quoit from the hub. We have seen Mr. 
Marshall, in later times, when he was Chief Justice of 
the United States, on his hands and knees, with a straw 
and a penknife, the blade of the knife stuck through the 
straw, holding it between the edge of the quoit and the 
hub, and, when it was a very doubtful question, pinching 
or biting off the ends of the straw until it would fit to a 
hair. His extreme accuracy and justice were so well 
known that his decision was invariably submitted to 
without a murmur. 

Dr. Brockenbrough, Col. Harvie, Mr. Wirt, and Major 
Gibbon on one side, and Col. Ambler, Mr. Ellis, Mr. 
IS^icholas, and Dr. Lyons on the other; these, with the 
leaders, constituted the game. The leaders in the game 
generally reserved their throws to the last. The four 
gentlemen on each side had throw^n, and their quoits were 
all close around and about the meg. Mr. Marshall, with 
his long arms hanging loosely by his side, a quoit in each 
hand, leaning slightly to the riglit, carried his right hand 
and right foot to the rear; then, as he gave the quoit»the 
impetus of his full strength, brought his leg up, throwing 
the force of the body upon it, struck the meg near the 
ground, driving it in at the bottom, so as to incline its 
head forward, his quoit being forced back two or three 
inches by the recoil. Without changing his position, he 
shifted the remaining quoit to his right hand, and, fixing 
the impression of the meg on the optic nerve by his keen 
look, again threw, striking his first quoit and gliding his 
last directly over the head of the meg. There arose a 
shout of exulting merriment. 

It is amusing to see how different men perform the 
same action in different ways. We described Mr, Mar- 
shall's manner minutely just to note this difference. Our 
Parson placed his heels against the meg at which he was 
standing, his body square to the front, then bringing his 



334 THE T\V(^ PARSOXS. 

quoit upon a level with bis eye, aimed it as if sighting a 
gun, giving the impetus entu-elv from the shoulder, — the 
quoit going like an Indian's arrow at the edge of a cent, 
performed the same exploit as Mr. Zvlarshall, ringing the 
meg on the top of his quoit. This was received with 
such uproarious applause that it brought all the Club 
fi-om the table. But the Parson had another tlirow. 
Taking his position, he again strnck the meg; but his 
quoit, l)eing too light, rebounded and ran into the grass. 
He called out, " Stop that colt ! " 

It was evident, from the pertinacity of the adversaries 
upon the question of who was the winner, that fun was 
the object. The importance of the subject requu-ed it 
should be decided by the Club. They adjourned, therefore, 
to the table, and the caterers were unanimously required 
to present the case faii-lv, concise' v, and humoronslv. 

•We wish we could reproduce the arguments, pro and 
con, as thev were delivered. We can onlv o-ive them as 
recounted to us by some of the hearers years afterwards. 
As thev were intended for fnn, a o'ood deal of the mock 
heroic was indulged in, and they relied less upon the 
strength of the point or the force of the argument than 
upon the effect in producing good humor and mirth. 

One object in the submission of the question was to 
afford an opportunity to crack another bottle of cham- 
pagne. TTe merely hint at the topics and elucidations. 

Mr. Marshall proposed the question : Wlio is winner 
when two adversary quoits are on the meg at the same 
time ? Having the first throw, he had succeeded with one 
of his quoits in ringing the meg. Parson Blair, the leader 
of the other side, had followed him, and he was pleased 
to say with his usual skill, had accomplished the same feat. 
The winner has a right to score two in the game. This 
was not a case for measurement, but was to be decided 
by the construction and application of the rules of tlie 



BARBECUE CLUB. 335 

game. It matters not what was the conformation of the 
quoit, whether large or small, whether the cavity in the 
interior was dilated or contracted. Members had the 
privilege of selecting their own qnoits, so as to adapt 
them to their hands and tlieir ability to throw them grace- 
fully and manfully. 

Both quoits embrace the hub, and the one first ringing 
the meg has the advantage. It is the duty of the adver- 
sary to knock that quoit off, and then to take its position. 
This is the skill of the game, and unless he can rise to this 
pitch of perfection he cannot be decreed to be the winner. 
My friend, the worthy Parson, deserves to rise higher 
and higher in esteem, and I am sure he will be in that 
higher firmament to which we all aspire at some future 
day; but if he expects to reach Elysium by riding on 
my back, I fear, from my many backslidings and defici- 
encies, he may be sadly disappointed. I do not play back- 
gammon after that fashion. This new mode of playing 
it looks too much like the game of leap frog to meet my 
approbation. It would not be very seemly for my estim- 
able friend or myself to be playing at that game at this 
period of our lives. 

There is another view of the case. His position on 
the meg was the same with the old law maxim, '^Cujus 
est soluhi ejus est usque ad caelum.'''' He was the first oc- 
cupant, and his right extended from the ground up to the 
vault of heaven, and no one had a right to become a 
squatter on his back. If his opponent had adversary 
claim, he must obtain a writ of ejectment, or drive him 
from his position vl et armis. 

There was another game of great antiquity to which 
he would refer. It was a game plaved bv bovs, and they 
understood such matters fully as well as men; the game 
of "Man the King.'" The object was to get all the men 
out of the ring, or to kill the taw of the antagonist. 



336 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Now, if one boy sees his adversary in a position to 
knock out all the men from the ring, it is his duty, with 
keen eye and practised aim, to plump him up from taw. 
When that feat is performed there is a regular dancing 
by himself and a kicking up of heels by his partners. 
Now, it is equally the duty of our good Parson to plump 
my quoit off the meg; and though it might be unseemly 
for him to dance, yet the rest of the club might take 
pleasure in elevating their heels for joy. This is the 
rule, and if so, judgment should be given for me. This 
speech was received with Hattering applause, and Mr. 
Marshall and Mr. Call indulged in a quiet ha! ha! 

Mr. Wickham said, "My friend Marshall, with his 
usual perspicuity has fairly submitted the question for 
the decision of the club, and ingeniously stated his view 
of the rule to govern the case. We intend to meet him 
squarel}'^, and deny his rule, his law and his inference. 
We have listened to both argument and banter, have 
been both nnstructed and amused, but not convinced. 
There is another view, which we believe the true one. 
Where two adversary quoits are on the same meg, neither 
is victorious. It must be considered a tie or drawn 
throw. It is well known to the club, that our friend 
Marshall's quoit is twice as large as any other; and yet 
it flies from his arm as flew the iron ball at the Grecian 
games, when thrown by the robust arm of Telemonian 
Ajax. It is an iron quoit, unpolished, jagged, and of 
enormous weight. It is impossible for an ordinary light 
quoit to move it from its position. No rule requires an 
impossibility. He is not entitled to such an advantage, ♦ 
Our friend facetiously remarks, that Parson Blair, by 
mounting on his back, had evinced a disposition to leave 
the earth for Elysium. We will all unite in saying here, 
that our Parson, in concert witli his comrade, Parson 
Buchanan, cannot be spared as yet, to be sent in the 



BARBECUE CLUB. 337 

twinkling of an eye ''ad astral He has only mounted 
on an elevated position to get a commanding view, and is 
exceedingly indebted to his friend Marshall for the great 
height he has attained in public estimation ; for by rid- 
ing on that pinnacle, he will \)q, more apt to arrive in 
time at the upper round of the ladder of fame. 

" If two or more quoits on the same side should ring the 
meg, each of them would score two. But adversary 
quoits stand upon a different footing. If each of these 
should be entitled to score, they would simply produce an 
equation, become plus and minus quantities, and destroy 
each other, as Parson Blair and Parson Buchanan once 
did in a certain election. It was an even vote. It is a 
tie throw. As to the law maxim, ' cujus est solum ^^ that 
is the very question at issue. The first squatter on Par- 
son Buchanan's land is no better than the second, nor 
does a shingling of patents, one shingle lopping over the 
back of the other, give any advantage. You are to try 
the right to the soil. Parsons are men of peace, and do 
not vanquish their antagonists vi et arrais. We do not 
desire to prolong this riding on Mr. Marshall's back ; he 
is too much of a Rosinante to make the ride asjreeable. 
We do not perceive the resemblance between the game of 
quoits and that of ' man the ring,' the game of marbles, 
and the manly throwing of the discus. We cannot con- 
sent to derive a governing rule from such a source, since 
it has been so earnestly tabooed by a certain minister of 
the gospel, who proclaimed to his youthful hearers, as a 
solemn truth, that they should ' marvel not.' 

" Our friend Marshall, too, exhibiting his playful conceit, 
imagined that this mode of pitching quoits resembled the 
game of " leap frog," and maintained that he did not play 
backgammon after that fashion. We do not perceive the 
similarity. The game of leap frog was one of the most 
.ancient of games, having, we believe, been established anno 



338 THE TWO PARSONS. 

tnundl 2513. There is a marked difference, however. 
Tlie boys at the conclusion of their game generally set 
up one boy on all-fours, and four of them taking another 
by the arms and legs, use him as a battering ram to over- 
throw the bulwarks of their antagonists. He lioped we- 
would indulge in no such penalty, but that our friends 
would consider this a drawn throw, and take a new chance 
accordingly." 

This speech was cheered to the echo, and the merri- 
ment produced was exceedingly jovial and pleasant. 

The Club then proceeded to vote, and the members 
seemed to take delight, as the roll was called, in making 
the vote as close as possible. It was iinally decided to 
be a drawn throw. When tlie parties resumed the game, 
Mr. Marshall placed his quoit about an inch from the 
meg, while Parson Blair's fell just behind, leaving Mr. 
Marshall undoubtedl}- victorious. 

Meanwliile the residue of the Club, wdth Parson Buch- 
anan, were enjoying themselves in delightful converse, 
in amusing stories, and some of the best songs of the 
olden time. 

Parson Buchanan pleasantly remarked, he thouglit 
music one of the greatest assistants to ministers of the 
gospel in the devotions of the sanctuary. An appro- 
priate hymn at the commencement of the service pre- 
pared the mind for the solemnities of the occasion, and, 
when sung with spirit and with feeling, it enforced the 
minister's remarks and made the occasion more impres- 
sive. For himself, he was exceedingly fond of fine poe- 
try, the outpouring of a devout heart, overflowing with 
lofty thoughts and heavenly inspiration. When set to 
sweet, melodious music, there was nothing better calcu- 
lated to inspire the heart and transport the mind. Next 
to such music, he was fond of the old-fashioned au-s, 
adapted to the words of the best poets. 



BARBECUE CLUB. 339' 

Mr. Kutherfoord said he knew Mr. Nekervis sang 
many of these old airs, and he hoped, for the gratification 
of Mr. Buchanan, he would sing a song or two from 
"auld Kobbie Burns." 

Parson Buchanan responded that Mr. Nekervis' tenor 
had often been heard amid the choir in the capitol, and 
his was a voice that many of the public singers might 
envy. 

Mr. Nekervis, without any protestations of inability, 
with great life and animation, and with a richness and 
sweetness not often surpassed, sang '' All the Blue Bon- 
nets are over the Border." 

"Ah," said Mr. Rutherfoord, always fond of poetry 
and quoting a sentiment that pleased him, 

"'Many a banner spread, flutters above your head — 
Many a crest that is famous in story; 
Mount and make ready then, sons of the mountain glen, 
Fight for your Queen and the old Scottish glory.' 

"Yes, old Burns used to say, 

" ' We'll laugh and kiss, and dance and sing. 
And gar the langest day seem short.' " 

Mr. Nicholas called upon Mr. James Brown, Jr., to 
follow the good example set by Mr. Nekervis, and he 
sang, in a rich voice and with much spirit, " La Marseil- 
laise." At the repetition of the chorus all the members 
united, Parson Buchanan, with his full, sonorous bass^ 
swelling the mellow tones. 

Again Mr. Rutherfoord with fine effect repeated — 

" ' En avant, marchons ! 
Contre leurs canons; 
Courons au feu 
An feu des bataillons.' " 



340 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Parson Buchanan said be enjo3'ed this music very much, 
and hoped Mr. Nekervis would give him one more of 
Burns' songs. 

Mr. Nekervis said he would give a verse or two of 
'' There's Nae Luck About the House," and sang in a 
lively tone the following : 

" And are ye sure the news is true ? 

And are ye sure he's weel ? 
Is this a time to talk o' wark ? 

Ye jads, lay by your wheel ! 
Is this a time to talk o' wark. 

When Colin's at the door ? 
Gie' me my cloak ! I'll to the quay, 

And see him come ashore. 

"Rise up, and mak' a clean lire-side, 

Pnt on the muckle pat ; 
Gie' little Kate her cotton gown. 

And Jock his Sunday's hat ; 
And make their shoon as black as slaes. 

Their hose as white as suaw ; 
It's a' to please my ain gudeman, — 

He likes to see them braw." 

This song produced the most charming effect, and all, 
as before, joined in the chorus, Parson Buchanan keep- 
ing time with his hands. " What is more natural," said 
he, " or comes more direct from the heart than the two 
lines — 

" And will I see his face again I 
And will I hear him speak I" 



BARBECUE CLUB. 341 

Mr. Rutlierfoord added, " Or tlian those other two in the 
next verse — 

" The present mament is our ain, 
The neist we never saw." 

The Chib in fine humor dispersed, no one being under 
the table. There was never a more pleasant party than 
when these congenial spirits were thrown together. 



CHAPTER XXIl. 

MRS. INQLEDON, COL. EGBERT BRAINTREE AND MR. 
THOMAS CLAIBORNE. 

WE concur with Parson Blair in his estimate of 
married and single life. We prefer, however, to 
give his views in his own way. 

Some wag ha^dng published in a newspaper a few 
humorous verses against w^edlock, and headed his piece, 
"Long metre;" Parson Blair answered it, but changed 
the measure to " Common metre," after this fashion : 

" Happy the man who timely takes 
A modest, virtuous wife, 
And thus the gloomy haunts forsakes. 
Of solitary life. 

" Adam in Eden was not blest 
Until he got his Eve ; 
Then he the choicest gift possessed 
That heaven to man could give. 

" Soon as the beauteous fair he view'd, 
And knew she was his own, 
He found by contrast 'twas not good 
For man to be alone. 

"The man who wisely takes a wife 
Has pleasures chaste and pure. 



MRS. INGLEDON COL. BEAINTREE MR. CLAIBORNE. 343 

'Midst all the treacheries of life, 
Of one kind friend secure. 

" He's like a tree of tirraest root, 
And branches spreading wide ; 
His children are the precious fruit, 
His comfort and his pride. 

*' His wife encircled in his arms, 
He views his little ones; 
Sees in his girls their mother's charms, 
And statesmen in his sons. 

*'And when arrived at life's last stage. 
When years shall weigh him down, 
They'll prove the staff of his old age. 
Of his grey head the crown. 

"They give a pleasure to his mind. 
And they prolong his fame ; 
The num'rous race- he leaves behind, 
Perpetuate his name. 

"Not so the bachelor: he feels 
No pleasures so refined : 
A useless thing, thro' life he struts, 
T'oblivion consigned." 

When he had written this, he sent a copy to Parson 
Buchanan, saying : " The last stanza is particularly de- 
dicated to my good Ijrother. When he calls to look after 
tay little Luly, he may, perhaps, kill two birds with one 
stone, by looking sharper after sister Ingledon. That 
inspection may induce him to ponder over these com- 
mon metre lines, and give him a desire to 'perpetuate his 
name.' " 



344: THE TWO PARSONS. 

Parson Buchanan generally permitted these banters to 
pass unnoticed. But he took up his pen, and smiling at 
his own conceit, his thoughts ran thus : 

" Dear Brother : What is a bachelor ? He is defined 
to be "one who takes his first degree at the university." 
I expect by application to have M. A. in due time. 

J. B." 

" Well, well !" says Parson Blair. " Swift says ' ap- 
plication' signifies 'solicitation.' He expects, by solicita- 
tion to have little Luly's ma, sister Ingledon. Dear, 
dear!" 

It passed through his mind, " I know him. He is 
Master of Arts! ^^ 

Nobody, as far as we know, had ventured to test Mrs. 
Ingledon's wishes upon a subject like this. The daughter 
was the great object of attraction, and the high-born 
dame held her head above " the common herd." Wealth 
and blood were the fascinations for her, and she had not 
felt the glow from these fires warming her own veins. 
She was engrossed in her daughter's success, and fixed 
her heart and ambition upon attaining these for that 
daughter's portion. We have said elsewhere she was 
formal and distant; but with those she considered her 
peers she could unbend and be very gracious. With 
Parson Buchanan she was easy and pleasant; nothing 
more. He could not be otherwise with anybody, high or 
low. She often consulted him about her daughter and 
those who were paying her attentions. 

On more occasions than one he said, " I do not know 
much about such things, Mrs. Ingledon, but my experience 
leads me to think that a parent had better not show too 
much anxiety in favor of any particular person, for it 
almost inevitably produces a dislike instead of a prefer- 
ence." The good man had seen into the mill-stone 
already. " I," said he, " take a great interest in her, in 



MRS. INGLEDON COL. BRAINTREE MR. CLAIBORNE. 345 

consequence of her father's request, and really for her 
many excellencies and attractions. Let her have time to 
look about." 

Among those who had been paying her attention of 
late, Col. Robert Braintrce seemed to have been more 
fortunate than the rest in having attracted Mrs. Ingledon's 
notice and good will. Luly evinced no special regard 
whatever — hardly seemed inclined to make her appear- 
ance when the Colonel came, nnich less to set her cap for 
him. Mrs. Ino;ledon had known Col. Braintree in former 
days, and had been to his splendid mansion. She knew 
his progenitors, had dined and driven with his friends, 
sat behind his blooded bays, and looked at the style in 
wliicli his driver, in livery, handled his ribbons. She had 
seen tliQ silver service displayed on his sideboard, the old 
family portraits, the broad acres, and, in fact, had set her 
heart upon adding all these comforts and luxuries to the 
treasures she had in store for her Luly. 

Col. Braintree was a tobacco planter, living on an ele- 
gant estate. His residence was a splendid old family 
seat, which had passed through several generations, each 
improving and beautifying it, until it vied with many of 
the baronial estates of the English nobility. He was a, 
gentleman of about forty-iive years of age, of open, pleas- 
ing countenance, but swarthy complexion ; of medium 
stature, rather thick set ; a little distant, like Mrs. Ingle- 
don, but when drawn out in conversation, he displayed 
intellect and cultivated taste. His hair began to show a. 
sprinkling of gray, giving his head a slight appearance of 
pepper and salt, the pepper as yet predominating. He 
was fond of show and parade, rather inclined to ostenta- 
tion ; and when lie took a fancy to indulge in such things, 
came down with his purse liberally. He had ample 
means at his command to gratify fully his inclination or 
ambition in this respect. In truth, with coldness of man- 



2-2 



SttG THE TWO PARSONS. 

ner, he yet was a kind neighbor, an estimable gentleman, 
entertained like a prince, was good tempered, and tem- 
perate in all things. 

This was the gentleman Mrs. Ingledon had set her heart 
upon as a match for her daughter. This was the mill- 
stone into which Parson Buchanan thought he had seen. 
Col. Braintree had as yet made no unusual demonstrations 
except a few occasional calls. But Miss Luly was a very 
young girl, and when a gentleman of Col. Braintree's age 
calls in the mornings and asks especially for Miss Luly, 
Caesar, the old family servant of the Ingledons, began to 
think, " Well ! well ! this was indeed winter and spring 
coming together." There is a wide gaj) between forty- 
five and seventeen — considerably more than two to one. 

As we said in a former chapter, " man is a strange ani- 
mal." We are sometimes tempted to say, " woman is 
still more strange." Why should a lady like Mrs. Ingle- 
don wish her daughter to marry one who was not con- 
genial ? It often occurs that matches are made, not on 
account of similarity of tastes and dispositions, not be- 
cause of suitableness of age or appearance, but be- 
cause they are antipodes to each other. Sometimes a 
very lean, cadaverous man, and an un wieldly, fat woman ; 
sometimes an unusually tall woman and a five-footer — 
scarcely coming to her shoulders ; a two hundred pounder 
and a delicate little lassie ; and they often live harmoni- 
ously together. But when a sentimental, sweet-tempered, 
loving wife, and a boisterous, quarrelsome husband come 
together, then there is discord, and a bad time generally 
in that domicile. 

Mrs. Ingledon, considering this match as one much to 
be desired, embraced every opportunity to exhibit Col. 
Braintree in the most favorable light to her daughter. 
They were continually brought together by design, and 
it not unfrequently happened, by sheer accident. 



MKS. INGLEDON COL. BRAINTREE — MB. CLAIBORNE. 34:7 

The city was all agog with rumors, and there was little 
that passed in the Ingledon family tliat liad not been 
spread abroad. Luly fought rather shy of the Colonel; 
he was not one she could call Simon or Peete, or to whom 
she could give any nickname. She could not be at ease 
with him; he was too dignified in her estimation. In 
truth, he was outside of her set. 

As fate would hav^e it, she was on her way, all alone, 
to Parson Blair's, to call upon his daughter Betsy, who, 
though older than herself, had yet contracted an intimacy 
with her. Tlieir friendship began at the Academ}', and 
was exceedingly pleasant and agreeable to botli. She 
was endeavoring to avoid an expected visit from Col. 
Braintree, whose praises her mother had been industri- 
ously singing, not mindful of Parson Buchanan's whole- 
some advice. It so happened that Parson Blair and Mr. 
Thomas Claiborne, a young gentleman whose father had 
been his intimate friend in Hanover, were walking 
together, when tliey unexpectedly encountered Miss Luly. 
The old gentleman, in the most joyous manner, greeted her 
with the warmest expressions of affection. " He had seen 
her,"" he said, "very seldom since she left the Academy." 

" Why, Mr. Blair," she said, " I scarcely ever think of 
your catcliing me with your cloak, hat and spectacles on, 
and making my eloquent speech against the candy regu- 
lations at the Academy, without having a hearty laugh." 

" Brother Buchanan and I," said he, " have had many 
a laugli over it ourselves. But, I beg pardon. Here is 
my young friend, Mr. Claiborne. I commend him to you 
as the son of my old classmate when we were boys together. 
Mr. Claiborne, Miss Lucy Ingledon. I used to say to my 
friends, ' She is the jewel of my Academy.' " 

"With Miss Ingledon's permission, I shall do myself 
the honor to call upon her shortly," said Mr. Clai- 
borne. 



348 THE TWO PARSONS. 

"Do," she said. "Mother and I will be happy to see 
you.'" 

The two gentlemen passed on, the young ladj- in the 
opposite direction. Tiiere had been but a few words said,, 
only a glance or two, and a compliment to each from the 
Parson. But it sometimes happens so. Thought upon 
thouglit, in this mind and in that, material for castle- 
building, gathering and crowding together, piling up 
higher and higher, until the castles in the air assume a 
pretty outline. The columns have the light, airy capitals 
of the Corinthian order, but they are still only air-built. 

"Who is Mr. Thomas Claiborne? How has it hap- 
pened that we never met before?" said she. 

"I have heard of Miss Ingledon," he said, "but they 
say she is a drawn prize." 

" That would be a handsome couple, thought the Par- 
son," each making these passing comments as they mused.. 

Mr. Thomas Claiborne was a young gentleman of good 
birth and fair education, about twenty-five years of age^ 
six feet high, with a fine figure and well proportioned. 
He had a handsome, open, manly face; a kind, good 
heart, and was lil)eral to a fault. Everybody who knew 
him called him Thom, and nothing else. He was ex- 
ceedingly neat in dress, and no matter what kind of work 
he was engaged in, always managed to appear as if he 
had just completed his toilet. With coat well brushed 
and without a wrinkle, hat smooth and becoming, a fault- 
less ruffled shirt, with a small diamond pin, the gift of 
his mother, and clean white wristbands always managing 
to peep from under his cuffs, he appeared to the greatest 
advantage. These, with a well-fitting, neat boot caused 
him to be regarded as the very tip of the ton. Yet he 
was not at all inclined to foppery or dandyism, but was 
only very particular. His face was clean shaven, with 
neither moustache nor whiskers; his long hair smoothly 



MRS. INGLEDON COL. BRAINTEEE MR. CLAIBORNE. 349 

brushed into a queue, was neatlj tied with a black ribbon. 
We have been thus particular in describing our Thom, 
because we like him; but our partiality has not induced 
us to over draw his picture. Thom was not what would 
have been called in those days, or these latter times, an 
eligible match for a rich heiress, because he was in no 
position of eminence, and had no great possessions of 
either real or personal property. He was the worthy 
recipient of a small salary as chief clerk in a wholesale 
auction establishment, where an extensive and lucrative 
business was carried on, and where he was busily and 
closely employed. He was respected and favored by his 
employers, and much beloved b}^ liis acquaintances and 
friends. 

There were but few liouses of public entertainment in 
the city of Richmond at that day, and they M^cre then 
called taverns. Among these, the "Eagle," the " Bell " 
and the "Swan" were the principal. Our story leads us 
to the "Swan Tavern." It was located on Broad street, ad- 
joining what is now the Richmond and Fredericksburg rail- 
road company's depot. It was a two-story wooden build- 
ing, with a porch in front, the full extent of the house, 
and from it swung, pendant, an old-fashioned square sign, 
with a swan painted in the centre; the bird seated on an 
unrippled lake, its yellow webbed feet projecting behind, 
and in large letters underneath, " The Swan Tavern." 

In Mr. Mordecai's pleasant book, among the reminis- 
cences of Richmond we find the following: "The Swan 
Tavern was kept by Major Moss. He exhibited good 
breeding, good feeding, and good fellowship in his full 
figure and face. His house might have been called the 
Lincoln's Inn or Doctor's Commons of Richmond; for 
there assembled in Term Time the non-resident judges 
and lawyers; and though of unpretending exterior, the 
Swan was the tavern of highest repute for good fare, 



350 THE TWO PARSONS. 

good wine, and good company. Here centred 'the logic, 
and the wisdom, and the wit,' nor was the broad laugh 
wanting. It has lost its name and fame, and few of its 
professional guests survive." 

At this tavern our friend, and the no less elegant Col. 
Braintree, were boarding. But they were strangers to 
each other, and it did not appear that there was any 
reason for apprehending any clash of interests, or that 
discord could possibly spring up between them. 

This being Thorn's home, he was, after a hard day's 
work, lolling on the bench in the porch, just before sun- 
set. He was musing on the unexpected encounter of the 
morning, and upon what he had lately heard of Col. 
Braintree and that gentleman's prospects with Miss In- 
gledon. It was currently reported that they were already 
eno;ao;ed. 

At this moment a gentleman and lady, enjoying an 
evening ride upon two spirited bays, came cantering, 
around from the street leading by the Capitol Square at 
Ninth, and turned up Broad street. We have rarely 
seen a spirited lassie on a mettlesome charger who did 
not delight in a quick gait. The breeze gathered by the 
rapidity of the motion, the glow on the cheek, the novelty 
of the exercise — all combine to exhilarate the spirits to 
such a degree that it is almost impossible to restrain 
them. The consequence is, if any accident happens she 
is placed in great peril, and the danger aggravated if the 
gentleman gives his horse the rein, for l)oth horses then 
becoming excited, are apt to strive to be foremost, and a 
runaway race is commenced, in which the lady not un- 
frequently gets the worst of the bargain. So it was in 
the present instance. The lady, with her young blood 
full of excitement, under the elastic spring of her horse, 
had given him a loose rein, and her companion. Col. Brain- 
tree, wishing to keep pace, had freely applied the spur to 



MISS INGLEDON COL. BRAINTREE MR. CLAIBORNE. 351 

bis horse ; so they were increasing in speed as they came 
up the street at a fearful rate. There happened to be 
coming down the street at this critical moment two men 
in charge of a vicious bull, an animal of great strength 
and power. He was held by a strong rope passed round 
his horns by one of the men, while the other restrained 
him by another rope around his hind leg; but he was 
pawing and throwing up the dust, dashing from one side 
to the other in a perfect fury. 

As soon as tlie lady's horse perceived the animal, he 
began suddenly springing, curvetting and kicking, while 
the gentleman tried, as far as possible, to prevent an en- 
counter by rapidly spurring his horse to her side; but 
hers, shying from him, whirled round and round. This 
was repeated again and again, spinning in a circle, the 
most dangerous evolution a horse can perform, even with 
a skilful master. 

The bull accelerated his motion, and a cry of " Take 
care, take care," in voices of terror, broke from the 
drovers. By a sudden dash, he had jerked the rope 
which held his foot from the hands of one of the drovers, 
and was dragging tiic other by the rope which restrained 
his horns, and with head down, horns pointed, and eyes 
on fire, was making directly for the horses. The attack 
was so sudden and unexpected it could not be averted ; 
but the weight of the dragging man, and his efforts to 
regain his footing, slightly diverted the aim of the bull, 
and grazing the prancing horse of the frightened lady, 
his horn passed through the lower part of her riding skirt. 
Tearing out a piece, he rushed on, flaunting it in the air. 

Never was lady in greater danger. JS^ot only from the 
horns of the animal, wliich she providentially escaped, 
but from the frightened horse on which she rode. She 
was young, without strength, and had but little experi- 
ence as a rider. Her torn skirt flapped upon his sides, 



352 TiTE TWO PAKSONS. 

and the horse, having escaped the danger, but much ex- 
cited, reared to his full height, standing almost perpen- 
dicularly on his haunches. 

Our Thom had soon perceived that the lady was in 
imminent peril, and discovering who she was, rushed 
rapidly to her assistance. Just as she had lost her 
balance, and was in the act of falling, he caught her, 
breathless and colorless, in his arms, thus saving her from 
inevitable destruction. The horse, at the same time 
springing forward, dashed furiously up the street. 

Col. Braintree had hurriedly dismounted, and was 
making every effort in his power to assist in saving her, 
but was not so fortunate as our Thom. 

Luly had not fainted, as many a lady under such cir- 
cumstances would have done, but as soon as she found 
she was safely on her feet, and that Mr. Claiborne was 
her deliverer, her little heart pit-a-patted with a fervor of 
feeling she was not willing to display. The emotion was 
one hard to describe or to realize, although gratitude was 
■one of its elements. 

Our Thom was merely a passing acquaintance of the 
morning; she knew nothing of him or his feelings. The 
sight of him again, under such circumstances, made her 
cheeks tingle. 

She had been undoubtedly greatly frightened, and been 
rescued from severe impending danger. Gratitude of no 
ordinary strength was awakened, and she ardently de- 
sired to give expression to her thanks. But words for 
utterance she had none. Slie could only hold out her 
little trembling hand. After a while, Avith blood rush- 
ing to cheek and brow, she said : " I thank you, Mr. 
Claiborne, from the bottom of my heart, for your timely 
aid. I am not hurt in the least; only frightened out of 
my wits." 

Col Braintree came up and said, " Permit me, sir, to 



MRS. INGLEDON COL. BRAINTREE MR. CLAIBORJSTE. 353 

unite with Miss Ingledon. We both owe you many 
thanks. But for you, she would certainly have had a 
severe fall. I shall l)e happy to make your acquaintance." 

" Col. Braintree," said Miss Ingledon, " this is Mr. 
Claiborne." 

Our Thom said, " It has afforded me great pleasure to 
have been of service to you. Colonel, I have only done 
what you or any gentleman would liave done, if you 
had been near, — to give the assistance I was lucky enough 
to render. I reciprocate your desire for a better acquaint- 
ance." 

The whole affair occupied only a few moments, but the 
occasion had immediately gathered a consideralile crowd, 
who pressed forward eagerly to ascertain the identity of 
the lady, and the extent of the injury, if any had been 
sustained. 

The horse had been caught and was brought back ; but 
manifestly it was not proper for Miss Ingledon again to 
attempt the ride home. She insisted upon walking, but 
Col. Braintree stoutly maintained he could not permit it, 
as his carriage, which was kept at the Swan Tavern, would 
be ready in a few minutes. Our Thom coinciding in the 
opinion that it would be better for her to ride, she con- 
sented, withdrawing, meanwhile, from the midst of the 
crowd to the parlor of the Swan. 

As they went into the tavern, Col, Braintree's coach- 
man, dressed in full livery — blue coat and buff collar and 
cuffs, broad gold-laced band around his hat, and buckskin 
gloves — came from the stable. Walking up to a gentle- 
man in the crowd, with knowing look and self-importance, 
plainly denoting " I belongs to the Braintrees, I does," 
said: "Now, Master, when Mass Bob tole me to saddle 
up Roanoke witli a side-saddle, and dat I might put his 
saddle on Stanhope, I shuck my head, I did; caze how 
tho' Roanoke is a gentle horse like, yet when he gits in 



354 THE TWO PARSONS. 

his tantrims, I can hardly sot him myself. Thinks I, ef 
dat horse gnine whirl round, and kick up, and rar and 
pitch, dar aint no ooman on de yarth giiine keep on him. 
But de young lady dun all she could ; I never hearn her 
hollow narer time. She's spunky, she is. Now, ef 
Roanoke begins wid Mass Bob, he socks de rowels onto 
him, and it 's no child's play den. Boanoke knows who 's 
who ; he know ladies don't wear no rowels. Look ahere 
now, dats a new saddle and new girth, and I zamined de 
buckle myself, and was monstrous purticilar; but you see, 
de tongue done pull out o' de buckle, and, in course, dar 
wan't no chance." 

Col. Braintree appeared at the door. Seeing his ser- 
vant in charge of the horses, said, in a commanding tone, 
" I say, Cyrus, take in those horses, and bring out the 
coach as soon as possible." 

" Yes, master, I gwine," said Cy., raising his hat. 

" Be quick, then." 

" I know'd what was coming," soliloquized Cy. " In 
course she aint gwine to ride Boanoke again. But you'll 
be safe enough now, honey, when dis child handles dem 
reins." 

In a very short time the wide double gate of the stable 
yard was thrown open. Cyrus, mo\inted on his high ex- 
pansive seat, with buff hammock cloth trimmed with gold 
lace, proudly managing his four-in-hand, came smoothly 
rolling along, scarcely making a rumbling noise, every- 
thing perfectly new, just imported from England express- 
ly for the Colonel. The coach was elegantly finished ; 
inside linings and cushions all of buff cassimere ; mould- 
ings and iron facings, inside and out, of the best silver- 
plate, with the most expensive harness, plated to corre- 
spond. The footman in livery, the counterpart of the 
driver, standing on the seat behind, supported himself by 
the buff-lined straps. Cyrus understood what he was 



MRS. INGLEDON COL. BRAINTKEE MR. CLAIBORNE, 355 

about. As he made the circle he gave a sharp crack with 
his long whip, bringing the leaders prancing to the side 
walk, and reined them in as easily as he would have con- 
trolled a child, until tliey stood proudly pawing at the 
door. The footman immediately dismounted, and pass- 
ing into the parlor, hat in hand, accosted the Colonel : 
" Mass Braintree, de coach done ready, sah." " Very 
well," said the Colonel, waving his hand. Then offering 
it to- Miss Ingledon, she was escorted by Thorn and him- 
self to the carriage. The Colonel seated himself by her 
side, -when, turning, she said, very sweetlj', " Mr. Clair- 
borne, my mother will wish to thank you at her own 
house." " And I," added the Colonel, " hope to meet 
you again." The door was closed, and the stately coach 
driven grandly away. Our Thom sauntered back into the 
porch. Taking his former seat on the old bench, he re- 
clined, with head supported on hand, arm raised on elbow, 
and soliloquized with himself after this fashion, " She 
was near having a terrible fall, and I was just in time. 
If her little heart didn't thump when I caught her in my 
arms, then I am no judge of thumping. Braintree is a 
gentleman, though, and can run his genealogical tree up 
through the best families here, and then up, up, up 
through the British peerage to Jupiter Amnion, or any 
other Jupiter that might have previously existed. But 
what of that ? I can run back certainly to Noah, and 
then it is an easy matter to trace back to Adam ; and we 
all come from the same stock, therefore, and are even on 
that score. 

" Now, the Colonel is confounded rich, and I am con- 
founded poor ; that makes a confounded difference be- 
tween us. A poor man, unless he is a fortune hunter, 
feels so contemptible in his own eyes when accused of 
courting an heiress for her money. But for these things 
I'd call a new deal and shuffle, and cut him out of the 



•356 THE TWO PARSONS. 

ring. Such things have been done," and smiling at liim- 
self, he added, " It is in my mind, and I have a great 
mind to do it. When I was a boy, and was guilty of 
some peccadillo, my good father used to say, ' Thom, I 
have a great mind to whip you, sir,' and then, after paus- 
ing for a second thought, he would say again, ' It is a 
pity to spoil a great mind, and I will give it to you,' and 
die kept his word." 



^ 



CHAPTEK XXIII. 

PAKSON BLAIR'S SNACK.— CHANCELLOR WYTHE. 

/~^ EORGE WYTHE, one of the signers of the De- 
xSJT claration of Independence, had removed to Rich- 
mond from the old city of WiUiamsburg, and was Chan- 
cellor of the State at this time. He lived in an old two- 
story framed honse immediately in the rear of that large 
tulip poplar tree at the corner of Grace and Fifth streets, 
on the handsome lot where Mr. Abraham Warwick for- 
merly resided. He had been intimate with John Blair, 
who had been president of William and Mary College 
when he was professor of law, and in consequence of that 
intimacy sought out our good Parson, John D. Blair, and 
delighted in his society and friendship, and through his 
means became equally intimate with Parson Buchanan. 
They soon became congenial companions and spent many 
happy hoars together, sometimes sitting in the yard under 
the shade of the poplar, reading the Greek and Latin 
poets together in the originals, and at other times dis- 
cussing questions suggested by Eurypides, Sophocles or 
Homer. 

Old Mr. Burwell Bassett, who for many years subse- 
quently represented the Williamsburg district in the Con- 
gress of the United States, and was a warm and intimate 
friend of the Chancellor, sent him a present of a large 
basket of fresh crabs, packed in ice, to keep, as he said, 
the kindly regard which each had entertained for the 
other fresh in their memories. 

The Chancellor sent the greater portion of them to his 



358 THE TWO PARSONS. 

friend, Parson Blair, and then meeting Parson Buch- 
anan, as he was on. his way to court, told him he had 
better drop in, for Parson Blair had sent a note asking 
him to come and partake of crabs at twelve o'clock, which, 
on account of his engagement, he was compelled to de- 
cline. 

Parson Blair forthwith dispatched the following note 
to Mr. Munford, wdiich was intended for himself and his 
brother-in-law, Mr. William Padford: 

"Dear Sir: 

" Come over at twelve, 
And in a crab delve. 

And put by your books of the law ; 
"Without reading about it, 
I can give you, don't doubt it, 

A very substantial good clavi. 
Could I get a word pat in, ■ 
In English or Latin, 
About .my friend William, — 
Pd get you to tell him, 
I have crabs only two ; 
But if he'll come with you, 
I'll give him 'his fairin',' 



In a charming ' broiled herrin',' 



"J. D. B." 



Without a poetical answer all the amusement would 
have been lost; therefore Mr. Munford returns the fol- 
lowing card: 

"De^r Sir : 

"Your Pev'rence is good, 
Both in doctrine and food. 

And in neither is ever deficient; 



I'ABSON BLAIR'b SNACK CHANCEI,LOR WYTHE, 359 

Yet two crabs for three, 
Yourself will agree, 

Can hardly be counted sufficient. 

"But so often you joke, 
Your intention I smoke, 

'Twas only with more to surprise us ; 
And if they should fall short. 
You would well make up for 't, 

For your wit of itself satisfies us : 

" Your wit without fault. 
With choice Attic salt. 

We'll relish far more than a herring; 
So William and I 
From dull law books will fly. 

Our sorrows with you to be burying. 

" " W. M." 

Mr. Radford, in recurring to the pleasantries of Parson 
Blair, said that, to amuse the Parson, upon the reception 
of this invitation he wrote a few lines of rhyme — the 
first and last attempt of the kind lie had ever made. 
They ran thus : 

" Dear Sir : 

"Mr. Munford has just answered your note, 
Addressed to us both, and so cleverly wrote; 
For Mdiich we indeed must allow you great merit. 
And as for the fare, soon together we'll share it, 

"When I read it at first I was greatly perplex'd. 
And — cannot but say — was very much vex'd ; 
For against herrings I have an unconquerable spite. 
While crabs I devour with the greatest delight. 



360 THE TWO PARSONS. 

"But when I re-read and consulted your letter, 
I fonnd I was wrong, which suited much better ; 
For you mentioned the claw, not a word of the corpus,. 
As if to be eaten 'twas unfit as a porpoise. 

"The 'dead man,' I know, will oftentunes choke 'em, 

And mightily plague, and sometimes provoke 'enj ; 

So at last I concluded that this was the law : 

I'll eat the crab, and you eat the claw. 

" W. R" 

Parson Buchanan, as was his, habit, had been making 
his parochial and charitable visits in the neighborhood, 
and having seen the two friends we have mentioned 
wending their way to the Parsonage, put his cane under 
his arm and his hands behind him, and said to himself : 
"Some mischief is brewing; friend Munford don't leave 
his business this time of day for nothing." Bearing in 
mind what the Chancellor had told him, he knocked at 
the door, and Parson Blair opening, gave him the wel- 
come of " Well ! well ! What a nose he has ! Clio is 
nothing to him. He can smell a crab a mile or more. 
Now, what shall we do ? " appealing to his friends. 
" Here's brother Buchanan, just dropped in to share the 
corpus of that lone crab with Mr. Eadford. William," 
said he, addressing Mr. Radford, " you will have to stick 
to the herring." 

In a little while his daughter Betsy came in with a nice 
broiled herring in a plate, with a cracker or two, and two 
fine crabs in another plate, and set them down on the 
table, which was still in its place since breakfast. Then 
running up to Parson Buchanan, she kissed him affec- 
tionately, and, shaking hands cordially with the other 
friends, said : " Now, cousin William, papa says the her- 
ring is for you ; one ci-ab for cousin Munford, and the 



PARSON BLAIr's SNACK CHANCELLOR WYTHE. 361 

other for Mr. Buclianan, and papa will have to make out 
wdth the crackers." 

" Now," says Parson Blair, " you expected something 
more, I know ; but I sent you my bill of fare, and it is 
better and more bountiful than the dinner we obtained at 
Dr. McCaw's not long since." 

" What had you there ?" said Parson Buchanan. 

" Well, simply nothing," he replied. " Dr. McCaw 
had invited some friends to come and dine with him, but 
having been called off to visit a patient, and not sending 
to market in time, the butcher sold the lamb and veal 
and other things laid by for him, and he was compelled 
to send word to his intended guests that, for that day, his 
' cake was all dough ;' upon which I sent him a remon- 
strance." 

Drawing from his pocket a small note, he read : 

" Well ! well ! well ! well ! and is it so, 
That all yonr ' cake is turned to dough V 
Then it has come to this at last, 
That, Parson-like, I'm left to fast ; 
But I must not of tliis repent. 
Because it seems it's time of Lent ; 
Yet still, as I'm not of the church 
That lives on catfish, shad, or perch. 
What need is there that I, a sinner. 
Should be so cheated of my dinner ? 
Were it ' all-fools-day,' I protest, 
I scarce could laugh at such a jest; 
But it appears the cause of all 
Arose from butcher Mettard's stall ; 
Who, by mistake, sold all the meat 
Intended for the guests to eat." 

" We had a dinner a few days after that was not to be 
23 



362 THE TWO PARSONS. 

sneezed at. Now, you see, my crabs and herrings are 
both in place ; so set to work and clean them out." 

At this there was a hearty laiigh^ and they began in 
good earnest. 

In a little while, however, old Faris came in and said, 
" Master, missis say you must bring the gem'men in the 
dining-room." 

When they repaired thither, the good wife welcomed 
them to a magnificent dish of crabs, all picked and baked 
in their own shells, steaming hot, with the best of butter, 
pepper, salt, and grated crackers, nicely browned, with 
many other nick-nacks, and a first-rate dish of fried perch. 

" Now," said she, " Mr. Blair has given you his snack 
in the other room; Betsy and I welcome you to ours 
here." 

A.S if it was all a surprise to him, he exclaimed, " Dear ! 
dear! This is better than Hiw crabs for three.'' ''^ 

" And I think, William, the perch are better than ' the 
charming broiled herring.' " 

Mr. Munford added, " and Mrs. Blair's cake is not ' all 
dough.' " 

Parson Buchanan said, "tliough he's not of the right 
church in keeping Lent, and couldn't get an}^ catfish or 
shad, he is very happy at having a nice dish of perch." 

" Well," said Parson Blair, " I've always heard it said 
that fish and crabs should swim three times: 'First in 
water, next in butter, then in wine.' As we have no 
wine, the next best substitute I know of is a glass of 
'fun,' sipped all round, after the old style. Brother 
Buchanan, I have a little more of friend Mutter's old 
cogniac left, and I'll brew you something to keep the 
crabs from kicking." He made a tumbler of "fun," of 
which each having taken a mouthful, they adjourned to 
the next room, fully content with the repast. 

" Now," said Parson Blair, " I am going to give you a 



PARSON BLAIr's SNACK CHANCELLOR WYTHE. 363 

history of the perch and the crabs. My sons went to 
the river this morning, and had fine sport catching the 
perch in the falls. They say the fishermen, with their 
skimming nets, were very successful catching the finest 
shad. I have seen them passing through the streets with 
hundreds, strung upon their boat poles, and selling them 
as low as ten cents for the best. No man, woman or 
child, need want when such fish are sold at this price ; and 
they sell still lower by the quantity. For the crabs I 
am indebted to our old friend. Chancellor Wythe. He 
sent me a large basket full this morning, with a kind 
note, saying they were a present to him from Mr. Bassett, 
in Williamsburg. So you see we had our dinner fur- 
nished by Him who feeds the sparrows and the ravens." 

Parson Buchanan added, " I did not let on, l)ut the 
Chancellor told me he had sent them, and that is the 
reason my nose was so sharp." 

Mr. Munford said : " Chancellor Wythe is the best 
friend I ever had, and one of tlic most remarkable men 
I ever knew, and he certainly has been as kind to me as 
a father. For what I know of Greek, Spanish, and Ital- 
ian I am indebted to him. When my father died, leav- 
ing his estate somewhat embarrassed with debt, I was 
attendino; the o-rammar school attached to the old colleore 
of William and Mary, and Mr. Wythe was then Professor 
of Law. My mother wrote that she feared her circum- 
stances would not permit me to return to college. Mr. 
Wythe sent her immediately one of his kindest letters, 
saying she must not think of stopping my education ; 
that he would take me into his own family, and give me 
such instruction as he could bestow, either personally or 
by paying the professor's fees. He had taken a fancy 
to me, and he said he greatly desired that she would 
comply with this request. From that time for three 
years, at all spare moments, he devoted himself without 



364 THE TWO PAESOKS. 



reward to my instruction, giving me the best and most 
excellent advice, and imparting knowledge which I never 
could have acquired otherwise. Subsequently he gave 
me the use of his law library, and instructed me in the 
course pursued by himself in studying law, saying, ' Don't 
skim it ; read deeply, and ponder wliat you read ; they 
begin to make lawyers now without the vigiuti annorum 
lucubrationes of Lord Coke; thev are mere skimmers of 
law, and know little else.' Old as he is, his habit is,. 
every morning, winter and summer, to rise before the 
sun, go to the well in the yard, draw several buckets of 
water, and fill the reservoir for his shower-bath, and then 
drawling the cord, let the cold water fall over him in a 
glorious shower. Many a time have I heard him catching 
his breath and almost shouting with the shock. When 
he entered the breakfast room his face would be in a 
glow, and all his nerves were fully braced. Only a few 
days ago, when I called upon him he was teaching him- 
self Hebrew, studying closely with grammar and diction- 
ary, and once a week a Jewish rabbi by the name of 
Seixas attends him, to see how he progresses and to give 
him advice. He still shows me every kindness, and wel- 
comes me as one of his warmest friends. Many a kind 
note have I received from him since he removed to Rich- 
mond, with Greek, Latin, or Spanish sentences inter- 
spersed, for he evidently takes much pleasure in writing 
in those languages. I should indeed be ungrateful if I 
did not acknowledge my indebtedness to him ; and though 
he is in no manner connected with me by blood, I have, 
as you know, Mr. Blair, called my oldest son by his name, 
in memory of his attachment to me and my devotion to 
him. No remuneration would he ever accept, either for 
board or tuition, from my mother or myself." 

" And besides all that," said Parson Blair, " he does, 
not forget me, as you can now testify." 



PAKSON BLAIr's SNACK CHANCELLOR WYTHE. 365 

" Kor does he forget the poor," said Parson Buchanan, 
" as I have had occasion to know ; for more than once he 
has enclosed money to me in a note, simply containing 
the request, ' Please devote the enclosed to such charity 
as you may think deserving.' Such a man is entitled to 
the popularity he has so richly earned." 

They thus continued in their usual pleasantries, until 
" Phoebus ayont the western hills had just retired." 
They then returned home, delighted with their pleasant 
reunion. 



CHAPTER XXiy. 

MRS. INGLEDON AND HER DAUGHTER.— A PARLOR LEC- 
TURE.— COL. BRAINTREE AND MISS LULY.— OUR 
THOM AND LITTLE LULY. 

WE find Mrs. Ingiedon and her danghter, Lnly, seated 
pleasantly enough, but not exactly in a pleasant 
mood, something evidently having gone wrong between 
them. Disagreeable sensations are aroused on such occa- 
sions, and make one feel uncomfortable. It was at their 
own home, in their own parlor, where, surrounded by 
every comfort and elegance that fashion required and 
money could procure, one miglit have supposed that there 
was harmony and perfect accord between mother and 
daughter. They were sw^eet tempered, mild in disposi- 
tion, and devoted to each other. In most things the 
word of the mother was sufficient to have ensured a full 
compliance, and this would have been given with cheer- 
fulness and alacrity. There is one subject, however, up- 
on which old and young do not think alike ; and when 
Cupid flutters around the young heart, he avoids the old 
ones, and not unfrequently throws a very delicate film 
over the youthful eyes. This prevents them from seeing 
in the same light with the old folks, who, wearing fine 
gold spectacles, that suit them and enable them to see 
comfortably, think it impossible that they can be mistaken 
in their vision. 

Now, Mrs. Ingiedon had this only daughter, who was 
in every respect her pet and darling, her companion and 



MBS. INGLEDON AND HER DAUGHTER. 36 T 

solace. She had brought her up with the tenderest care, 
had nurtured and cultivated her mind as higlily as her 
tender years would allow, and as she bloomed into woman- 
hood she had endeavored to train and adorn her, and had 
lavished indulgences which would have made most chil- 
dren vain and extravagant. In spite of this, her daughter 
remained gentle and obedient, though she did not hesitate 
to speak her sentiments freely in her mother's presence. 
Thus the current of their lives had run on smoothly and 
pleasantly together, and the falling or rising of an oppos- 
ing tide agitated the smooth surface, and produced break- 
ers that could not be counteracted with light or gentle 
breezes. 

Her mother was at all times remarkable for dignity of 
manner, for urbanity and courtesy towards others, for the 
slow and measured enunciation of her sentences, and for 
the deference paid to the wishes of her daughter. There 
w^as just a little air of stiffness and formality about her, 
which, while it prevented easy intimacy, was neither un- 
pleasant nor forbidding. The daughter, on the contrary, 
was playful, ingratiating, accessible, and fascinating. Her 
black eyes sparkled when animated by excitement. Op- 
position seemed to arouse the independent spirit in her 
bosom, which generally lay slumbering in repose. 

Mrs. Ingledon recommenced the conversation, in which 
there had been a disagreeable pause. 

"My dear, there has been heretofore such entire con- 
fidence between us that I cannot but regret that anything 
should occur to interrupt it for a moment. The truth is, 
you seem to have avoided me of late, and to be disin- 
clined to afford me an opportunity to give you the 
slightest admonition or advice. Why should my desire 
to gain for you an eligible match produce estrangement 
between us? It gives me pleasure to anticipate your 
future happiness, and I am sure such an alliance leads me 



308 THK TWO PARSONS. 

to expect a realization of my liigliest hopes. And yet, if 
I mention tlie Colonel's name, yon not only seem inclined 
to treat him with disrespect, bnt will scarcely listen Avith 
composnre to your own mother. Yon are fnlly aware of 
Col. ih'aintree's intentions. A man of his character and 
position is not to be expected to be dilly-dallying with a 
young girl for months or years, like the whipper-snappers 
of the present day. He makes a formal proposal to her 
mother, and expects a graceful acceptance, or at least per- 
mission to pay the necessary attention and addresses to 
the daughter, and then not to be detained an unreason- 
able time, in trutli, he has already approached me upon 
the subject, and 1 think you know that your acquiescence 
M'ill give me r.nalloyed pleasure."" 

"Now, mother," she said in a playful tone, "Must I 
go into the parlor, and say, 'Col. Braintree, my motlier 
saj'S you made her a formal proposal. I am so glad to 
hear it. Do, Colonel, say the sweetest, softest little 
things to her in the world? I should so like to call you 
Pa, and would make you such a nice daughter. I give 
you unqualitied permission to pay the necessary attention 
and addresses. Do, Colonel, approach her on the sub- 
ject without unreasonable delay? But I cannot answer 
for the result! For she is a little cross sometimes.' " 

Then throwing ber arms around her mother's neck, she 
said : " This will do for the present.'' 

The politic mother burst into tears. 

"Must 1 marry a man whether I love him or not?" 
said the daughter. Her dark eyes twinkled, and a slight 
tear moistened the long lashes. It was just that moisture 
of the eye whicli wells up from generous emotion and 
makes it glisten. 

"Must I sit in my chair and say, 'lam ready to be 
courted. Come, court me.' I would be wooed after a 
different fashion from that. Tt is not natural." At this 



MRS. INGLEDON AND HER DAUGHTER. 369 

point the conversation was abruptly brought to a close by 
the young lady's quick ear detecting the stopping of a 
carriage, and a double rap from the large brass knocker 
on the door assured both mother and daughter that the 
latter was not mistaken. 

The knocker was responded to by uncle Csesar, usher- 
ing Col. Braintree into the hall. Mrs. Ingledon swept 
out of the room with stateliness at the side door. Her 
daughter remained, endeavoring to appear to be arrang- 
ing flowers in a vase on a side table, and as she did so 
she said to herself, " I will try whether he has any soul 
or not. I'll meet him kindly — yes, I'll meet him more 
than half way." 

"Good morning, Miss Ingledon," said the Colonel, 
making a respectful bow as he entered the room. 

She had regained her self-possession and playfulness. 

" 'Miss Ingledon,' indeed ! " sweeping backward with a 
very disimgue courtesy. " Why don't you call me Lucy ? 
or, better still, Luly ? and it would have gone nearer the 
heart to have said, little Lute." (Offering her hand as 
she spoke.) 

He took the proifered hand deferentially, escorted her 
to the seat she had just occupied, and seated himself by 
her side. " If you like to be called Lute, or Luly," — he 
omitted "little Lute," — "of course I will call you so." 
His voice didn't sound like the concession came gushing 
from the heart. He might have said, in addition, "I 
thought Miss Ingledon was the sweetest term I could 
use." But he said, " I do not fancy nicknames, and I 
should not like to hear my wife called 'Lute' by every- 
body." 

There is nothing sweeter to a young married woman 
than to hear her husband call her his " wife." The term 
applied even problematically by the lover before engage- 
.ment shocks her sensibilities. 



370 THE TWO PARSONS. 



a i 



Bj everybody,'" she said. " No, not 'everybody.'' 
There is a fitness of things. I heard an old gentleman, 
say, some time ago, it made the tear start to his eye when 
an old college-mate, a room-fellow, whom he had not seen 
for fifty years, accosted him with, ' I say, Bob.' ' I had 
not heard it,' he said, ' since I was a boy, and it renewed 
all the pleasant memories of my youth.' 'Everybody,'" 
she said, "would not have the right to call Col. Brain- 
tree's wife, if ho were married, 'Lute'; but Col. Brain- 
tree himself might consider it a term of endearment. I 
confess I am wrong," she added, "for I could not bring 
myself to say to Col. Braintree, 'How are you, Bob?' 
It would sound as if I were calling a negro ; it might 
indicate want of respect ; it might seem as if I desired to 
detract from his dignity. And yet, if Col. Braintree 
were married, and his wife were to say 'Roberty Bob," 
he might answer ' Yes, honey,' ' No, darling,' and it might 
not be v^ery unpleasant to his ears." 

Here was another opportunity, but it was not embraced.^ 
She alluded to what Col. Braintree's wife might do, to 
terms of endearment, and the pleasantries of old friend- 
ships; but the ice did not thaw. It kept on gathering. 
She began to be ready and anxious for regular sparring. 
She had met him more than half way. He was in a 
mood for business, and came for the very purpose. 

He drew from his pocket a magnificent gold snuff- 
box, and with a good deal of formality rapped it two or 
three times, took a small pinch, and then proceeded deli- 
berately, like a man of business. 

When a girl's mind has been nettled it is not very ad- 
visable to try the effect of an additional supply of net- 
tles. She reclined back in her cliair and prepared for 
defence. 

" Were you alone. Miss Lute, when I came into the 
hall ? " He ventured upon the Lute at last, but it came 



MRS. INGLEDON AND HER DAUGHTER. 371 

too late; and then he placed the ^^Jliss^'' before it. A 
small expletive like that, under the circumstances, grated 
harshly, and the tone was not affectionate. "As I opened 
the door I thought I heard the rustle of your mother's 
silk as she retired." The ghosts of departed admonitions 
and unpleasant reflections came flitting before lier. The 
attractive electricity was gone, and the repulsive battery 
alone remained. She was ready for a regular sparring. 

"Yes, it was mother." 

"Did she say anything about our affairs ?" he said. 

" Our affairs ? Mother said you asked permission, and 
all that sort of thing, to make proposals and so forth, and 
the permission was granted." 

The Colonel thought to himself, as Mr. ^Nelson did, 
" She's a curer." He took his chair and rolled it a little 
closer. He began to be interested ; this was something un- 
usual. He commenced in a softened tone, unfolding his 
plans. His fondest hopes for a happy life depencled upon 
her. He spoke of his home and his loneliness there; 
dilated upon his possessions; his family mansion and its 
parterre of flowers and shrubs ; of the number of his 
slaves; the profltable crops they raised, and the glitter- 
ing array of coaches and horses. These and all he had 
should be hers. 

We must do the Colonel justice. He said all that a 
cold calculating man could say, tempting with evergreens 
and gorgeous landscapes, luxurious crops and golden har- 
vests. He embellished them to look like apples of gold 
in pictures of silver, with all that wealth could purchase or 
intellect portray. But he lacked the heart, the delicate 
way of making it attractive. It wanted the charm of 
being discerned without the parade of exhibition. The 
exhibition had the appearance of bargain and sale. In 
the mood in which she then was, she preferred love in a 
cottage with one she had seen, to the wealth of Crcesus 



372 THE TWO PARSONS. 

with a heart not in sympathy with her own. She sat 
silent, and seemed musing rather than attentive as he pro- 
gressed. At length rousing herself, she said "Ah! Col- 
onel, wealth will not satisfy me. I do not crave it. I 
ask for congeniality of feeling; for aifection, and there 
must be love. It has not been nwakened in my heart 
by anything you have said. It is not right to marry 
without love." 

He softened more and more his tone and expression. 
"Kindness, you know, warms the heart. The warm 
heart will come by-and-by." 

" Marry for money," she said ; " young enough to wait 
for love ; is that the idea ?" She had in her heart to say 
sharp things, but her mother's earnestness, her tears, evi- 
dent deep distress, and frequent repetitions of the desire 
for her to accept Col. Braintree, made her pause. She 
knew her refusal would give her mother unalloyed pain. 
She looked up in his face and assumed her natural play- 
fulness. 

" Look here, young gentleman, you do not know what 
mother says about you. She commends you for liberal- 
ity and generosity, for descent from a long line of gen- 
tlemen, a man of talents, beloved by your neighbors, re- 
spected by your countrymen, steady in habits, sociable 
and friendly, of fine taste and cultivation. And you, you 
know, are like the old boy ; you have placed me upon the 
very pinnacle of greatness, and spread out before my 
fascinated eyes a panorama of broad possessions ; the fine 
old ancestral hall, embowered in shade and surrounded 
by the very spices of Araby. We are to have obedient 
.slaves, bowing the knee and spreading velvets for our 
feet to walk from the fairy coach over the marble pav^e- 
ments to the gilded rooms. We are to have fountains 
playing and flowers growing, exotics glistening, and — 
■what else ? — any thing else ? Yes, little Cupid flying out 



MBS. INGLEDON AND HER DAUGHTER. 373 

of the window, leaving all these attractions without a 
soul to enjoy them. Have I stated it fairly, old boy ? I 
can't, indeed I can't. Your fondest hopes of a happy 
life depend upon me ! My fondest hopes will not be re- 
alized unless little Cupid, who flew out of the window,, 
can be enticed back again. I think he has gone." 

" We will bring him back," he said. 

" It can't be done." She put her fingers on her pulse, 
shook her head gravely. " Pulse too calm ; not a flutter. 
Reason too composed. I tell you he's gone. Let us 
talk about something else." 

He was posed. Could not strike a bargain. Did not 
know what to say. 

" I'll come again," he said. " You'll change your mind. 
You are just trying me. It will all be right. I'll leave 
you. Come, give me your hand, and let us make peace." 

She extended her little hand. " I don't give it." 

He's gone. Li a few minutes his coach and four are 
far away. 

She sat musing. Scenes like this wdien they occur are 
certain to give pain to a sensitive mind. She said, "I 
could not do otherwise and preserve my self-respect. I 
would like to gratify mother, but I shudder to take this 
step." 

How long she would have continued in this mood we 
cannot say. Some half hour had elapsed, when a cheer- 
ful rat-tat-tat at the knocker announced a visitor, and 
Caesar's footsteps were heard answering the summons. 
A little hand rapidly pushed back one of the chairs to 
its position. A tall young gentleman was seen through 
the crack of the door, and a little fluttering heart ran out 
by the way her mother had disappeared. 

The tall young gentleman was ushered into the parlor. 
Turning to Ceesar, "Say to your young mistress, Mr- 
Claiborne has called to pay his respects." 



374 ' THE TWO PARSONS. 

"Take a seat," said Cnesar, with unaiTected politeness. 
" Claiborne ! " said Caesar to himself, " Claiborne ? Old 
master and Mr. Claiborne of Hanover used to be down 
dare at Mars Braxton's togetlier." 

Xow, while the young lady is bathing her face with 
refreshing water and smoothing her raven locks, examin- 
ing her looks in the mirror, and culling from a vase on 
her toilet table two of the choicest and sweetest rose- 
buds and a sprig of geranium, and adjusting them in her 
dark hair, the young gentleman was surveying the neat 
room into which he had been introduced. 

We have said heretofore that our Thom was always 
genteel; but on this occasion he was gotten up simply 
and neatly, and, with his usual well brushed accompani- 
ments, had on a pair of new French fair top-boots, fitting 
to perfection. He was truly a handsome fellow; best of 
all, lie did not seem to know it, and certainly was uncon- 
scious of his dress, and perfectly at ease. 

Around the room hung the "'Cartoons of Raphael," 
over the mantle "The Crucifixion;" on tlie sides, two 
exquisitely gilded globe mirrors, with dragons, and an 
angel with outspread wings hovering above. In the back 
of the room, a grand piano, with a rich maroon velvet 
coverlet and broad gold border, handsome maroon cur- 
tains and chairs to match, and an elegant turkey carpet 
of exquisite pattern on the floor. On the tables, a beau- 
tifuU}' bound Bible and Prayer Book, and other books 
with fine engravings. 

All this our Tliom took in as he sauntered around, and 
before he had the opportunity to take a second survey 
our Luly came tripping into his presence, as gentle as a 
dove, and fresh as Aurora on a lovely May morn. 

" Glad to see you, Mr. Claiborne," and she reached out 
her little delicate hand. 

He met her with both hands, and said in his most 



MRS. INGLEDON AND HER DAUGHTER. 375 

pleasant tone and manner, "Then there are two of us 
glad. Happy to find yon so bright this balmy day. 
Hiding and tumbling from horses seems to agree with 
you. Suppose old Cy. has not saddled Roanoke for you 
again ! Try Stanhope next time. They are a pair of 
fine horses, but you haven't the strength to manage 
them.'' 

"Ah!" she said, "we have cause to thank you for your 
timely assistance." 

"I hope," he said, "you will have better luck the next 
time you try it. Some of these fine evenings you may, 
perhaps, be persuaded to take a canter with me. But if 
all I hear is true, you will have other fish to fry. I 
heard from one of your intimate friends, that somebody 
is going to be married soon," and his look intimated who 
" the somebody " was. 

The blush of the roses in her hair seemed to spread 
over her cheek, and their loveliest tint was rivalled there • 
but the warmth of the young blood cooled in a moment 
and the delicately tinged lily was left in its place. 

" Somebody!" she said. "The world is a wide one, and 
there are not many minutes in which somebody is not 
marrying or being given in marriage." 

"Ah, but wlien I asked your friend, 'who is the some- 
body?' she made it plain enough by saying 'Lulv,' and 
his name begins with a B. I have no idea that you can 
divine whose name begins with a B. "Were I to ask you 
directly, you might say :" 

'Amang the train there is a swain, 

I dearly lo'e mysel'. 
But what his name, or where his liame, 
I dinna care to tell.' 

" Going to be married ?" I said, " why, we haven't had 



376 THE TWO PARSONS. 

a chance to look at her yet. It is like locking a diamond 
in a casket and hiding the kej." 

" You are poetical and very complimentary this morn- 
ing, Mr. Claiborne. I might use your poetry and make 
a different application of it. Some of our friends are not 
so sure in their calculations as they suppose. The dia- 
mond you allude to is not locked up yet; yonng lasses 
sometimes are queer little l)odies, and do not act always 
as people imagine. Two of my friends not long since 
declared they would sooner die than marry men whose 
names were those of animals, and yet one married a Wolf 
and the other a Fox. My friends think I will marry a 
Bee. I rather think I shall prefer another letter of the 
alphabet. I was taught my A, B, C's sometime ago." 

"And yet," said our Tiiom, "the circumstantial evi- 
dence is very strong. Your friend seemed positive, and 
said she had it from headquarters." 

" Headquarters sometimes send a column to the right 
as a sham when they intend to attack the left. There is 
nothing certain in human affairs ; yet, whatever else may 
happen, that will never be a B. You may tell your 
friends that you have been authorized by headquarters 
to contradict such assertions." 

" Shall I say little Luhj said so ? " and there was some- 
thing very soft in his way of saying " little Luly." He 
looked her in the face, and when their eyes met there- 
was a heartquake, and both eyes fell in a twinkling. 
(Did you ever feel one of these heartqnakes ? They are 
not easily forgotten.) "1 like," he said, "these pet 
names. Petting and being petted has always been ex- 
ceedingly pleasant." He was making an effort to recover 
from that glance ; he was afraid to trust himself. " There 
is a difference between the sexes, I believe," he said, 
" in the use of such terms when they are in love. A 
warm-hearted man delights in calling the one he loves by 



MRS. INGLEDOJSr AND HER DAUGHTER. 377 

some pet name; sometimes the name itself is not very 
sweet, but the manner gives the charm. A lady, on the 
contrary, as soon as she feels that her heart is enlisted in 
a gentleman's favor, though she may have called him by 
his Christian name before, will immediately change it to 
his title, or she will Mister him. This is one of the signs 
of the discovery of her feelings, and she is afraid to be 
too familiar." 

" You are a close observer," she said. Neither of them 
ventured to take another glance, but the seed began to 
germinate. 

" I am compelled," he said, " to pay a fashionable call. 
We poor clerks haven't the time to spare in the morn- 
ings." 

" Come ia the evenings, then. We will try to amuse 
yon, and I'll introduce you to the belles. Are you fond 
of flowers ? Take these buds as a memento from me of 
your having saved my life," and she gracefully presented 
them. 

He placed them in the button-hole of the lappel nearest 
the heart, and bade her a pleasant adieu. 

There are men whose self-love and high appreciation 
of their own excellences render it impossible for them to 
believe that any lady can resist their continued impor- 
tunities. They cannot be induced to believe that they 
are not worthy of being beloved ; they imagine there is 
only some slight obstacle in their path, which, when as- 
certained, can be easily removed, and they coolly com- 
mence a regular siege, a refusal to surrender being a mere 
matter of moofishine. They act upon the principle that 
money is the key that opens all things to its possessor. 
They have no idea of the power of resistance which high 
principles, deeply imbedded in the human heart, can 
bring against the seductions and glitter of wealth. They 
have not the slightest conception of the fortifications 
24 



378 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

which Cnpid can throw around a heart which has looked 
into another heart, when the electric spark of sympa- 
thetic love has flashed between the two. 

Col. Braintree was one of those who had reasoned him- 
self into the belief that a very young girl could not easily 
forego the temptations that might be thrown into her path 
b}^ continued allurements of parade, pride, ambition, and 
the fascination of flattering attention. He believed that, 
if she were suddenly thrown into a gay circle of delight- 
ful society, courted and caressed by himself, and praised 
and deified by his friends, she would become desirous of 
continually shining in such a firmament, and would crave 
the opportunity to prolong its dm*ation. He accordingly 
set his triggers, and, like a bird-catcher behind a blind, 
kept himself out of sight while the bait and the attractions 
were thrown artfully in view. He induced his old friend, 
Lady Skipwith, to send an invitation to Mrs. Ingledon to 
pay her a visit and bring her daughter with her. Mrs. 
Ingledon was yet ignorant of the untoward interview 
which had taken place between Luly and the Colonel. 
She thought if slie could only remove her daughter from 
the ncM^ attraction which she began to fear might inter- 
vene between her own cherished hopes and their fruition, 
that she must prevail in tlie end. The least thought of 
the possibility of her child, the offspring of the Ingle- 
dons, the high-born descendants of the noblesse of old 
England, uniting with a " Clay-born," as she pronounced 
it, a nobody, embittered lier days, and hung like a pall 
upon sleepless lids in troubled nights. 

She was, therefore, pondering in her mfhd whither she 
should go, and how to afl^ect her object, and she hailed 
with pleasure Lady Skipwith's invitation, and said, " We 
will go into Col. Braintree's neighborhood." 

Luly, on the contrary, felt calm and composed. She 
had thrown off a weight which had become intolerable. 



MRS. INGLEDON AND HER DAUGHTER. 379 

Her mind regained its elasticity, and she could have 
played with another Simon without the least compunc- 
tion. She felt there was one man with whom she could 
not play. She could not see him at a distance ; she could 
not hear his name mentioned without a palpitation which 
w^as not to be trifled with. Where was that man ? Why 
had he not called to see her again ? 

Col. Braintree and Mr. Claiborne were boardino- in the 
same house. The rumors of his engagement with Miss 
Ingledon were still rife throughout the city. Mr. Clai- 
borne had bantered the Colonel about the engagement. 
In a laughing way he admitted that he had asked her to 
give him her hand, and she had extended it to him. 

He said, also, her mother was going in a day or two 
into his neighborhood, and he believed all things would 
then be arranged to his satisfaction. 

Mr. Claiborne began to be anxious. He called and 
knocked at the old brass knocker. Ci^esar opened the 
door. " Mars Thorn, Miss Luly has gone out visiting 
this morning." 

" Tell her, Caesar," said Thom, " that I called. I will 
call again this evening." 

As soon as the door was closed, Mrs. Ingledon, who 
was near enough to hear the message, said, " You will 
tell her no such thing. She is going to spend the even- 
ing out." And she gave her head a consequential toss. 

As C^sar went along, we heard him say, " Umph-oo ! 
Missus done put on specs. I believe she gwine lock de 
door. Ef dey wants to, dey will get together, no matter 
how many keys you totes. I done see it. She ain't 
gwine to marry no Braintree. Young doves flies away 
from old hawks, dey does." 

When Thom called in the evening, Caesar met him as 
an old friend. " Misses says, Mars Thom, Miss Luly has 
gone to spend the evening out." 



CHAPTER XXV. 

THE GENEALOGY OF THE BRAINTKEES, AND THE AR- 
RANGEMENTS FOR COL. BRAINTREE'S WEDDING. 

IN our last chapter we left our young friends in the act 
of separating, each with a fluttering heart, the flutter 
only known to itself, suspected, it is true, as to the other, 
and apparently a few flowers constituting the link in the 
chain, that seems to be forging for them. There are,, 
however, old scores to be settled ; flames to be kindled or 
extinguished ; contracts to be adhered to or violated ; 
feelings to be composed ; complications among relatives 
and friends to be settled, that seem to baflie ingenuity in. 
adjustment. 

Our friends are not so insigniflcant as not to attract 
the attention of the gay monde, and are too attractive not 
to become the subject of conversation in the circle in 
which they moved. Go where you would, you would 
find this prolific theme the subject of conversation. 

The visit of Mrs. Ingledon and her daughter to Lady 
Skipwith, so ingeniously contrived by Col. Braintree, had 
taken place, and the result of the visit was all that Mrs. 
Ingledon had anticipated or desired. The engagement 
of Miss Luly and the Colonel was a fixed fact. Sldlful 
generalship and artful manipulation had accomplished 
their designs, and everything seemed to portend an early 
wedding. 

We are going with Mrs. Ingledon to pay a morning 
visit at Mrs. Munford's. We find there the old friends 
of Mrs. Ingledon, Mrs. Blair and Mrs. Adams, cosily 



THE BEAINTREES. 381 

seated Math their sister, Mrs. Radford, Mrs. Munford's 
mother. They have accidentally assembled with their 
work, to spend the day together, as was not unusual with 
these loving sisters and their niece. 

These ladies were just in the prime of life, and still 
showing in their cheerful countenances evidences of that 
beauty for which each had been distinguished in the 
bloom of girlhood. They met Mrs. Ingledon with grace- 
ful attention, and showed by their manner that her visit 
was not unwelcome. They were all devoted to each 
other, and when an opportunity presented itself indulged 
in all the playful banter of well understood familiarity, 
and laughed at the little peculiarities of each with per- 
fect good humor and affectionate regard. Sister Adams, 
or, as she was generally called, sister Peggy, was the 
most lively and full of fun, and usually took the lead in 
playfulness. To avoid idleness, each had brought with 
her such light work as afforded occupation without fa- 
tigue, and which could at any moment })e thrown aside 
without inconvenience. They were accustomed to visit- 
ing and receiving visitors, and so enjoyed the advantage 
of hearing and knowing the little incidents that were 
transpiring in the city. Having received fine educations, 
they possessed the faculty of entertaining others with 
much humor, and consequently their associates sought 
them with unaffected pleasure. 

Sister Rebecca (Mrs. Radford) had been engaged for a 
long time, at intervals, making a large and beautiful 
calico quilt, of small pieces, exhibiting a kaleidoscope pat- 
tern of brilliant colors and regular symmetry ; but the 
pieces were, not like ordinary patch-work, of scraps and 
odds and ends of material, but were all of the newest and 
handsomest patterns that could be procured. She had 
displayed her exquisite taste, both in colors and figures, 
and had worked out her design with patient perseverance. 



382 THE TWO PARSONS. 

The rest were all employed in making some article either 
for ornament or use. 

" Dear me," said Mrs. Tngledon, " I feel ashamed of 
mjself to be caught in this sewing society with my hands 
before me perfectly idle. Rebecca, who are you making 
that beautiful quilt for ? It is certainly a perfect gem of 
a quilt." 

" My dear," said Mrs. Radford, " I began it for amuse- 
ment, but when I heard that your daughter was going to 
be married, I devoted myself to the work with more 
pleasure, intending it for her as a bridal present. It is 
hardly worth presenting to the wife of the rich Colonel 
Braintree; but as a token of friendship from her mother's 
old friend, perhaps she will prize it. I am giving it the 
finishing touches to-day." 

" Of course she will prize it," said Mrs. Ingledon, "and 
I thank you for her in advance. I cannot hesitate to say,, 
in this bevy of old acquaintances, how much satisfaction 
this connection with Col. Braintree has given me. Of 
course, Rebecca, you know that Luly will not be depen- 
dent on Col. Braintree, for she will have enough without 
his wealth ; but I have always thought that good blood 
and position in society were of great importance in keep- 
ing up family pre-eminence and ancestral renown. I 
have no idea of connecting myself with upstarts and par- 
venues." 

"Yes," says sister Peggy, "you are just like sister 
Blair. She harps upon her genealogical tree. She comes, 
you know, from the Earl of Essex, on the Winston side, 
and has the satisfaction of claiming for Mr. Blair, that 
he comes from Sir David Hunter Blair, on his side ; and 
but for one circumstance, we should have every reason to 
hold our heads high. The Bible tells us, you know, 
'Though thou settest thy nest among the stars, thence 
will I bring thee down ;' and brother Jordan always tells 



THE BRAINTREES. 383 

sister Blair that he Icnows that she is undoubtedly de- 
scended through one branch of the Winstons from uncle 
Jacky Bobby, and by the other side from uncle Dicky 
Baubee." 

"Don't you mind what brother Jordan says, nor ^\llat 
Peggy says either,*" said sister Blair, " I will stand up for 
my descent." 

" To be sure," said sister Peggy, " It is so fascinating, 
when two large fortunes am,algamate. Two piles of gold 
brought into contact have a magnifying influence upon 
the optics, and bring into bold relief the thousands of 
comforts and elegances that may be obtained. And one 
feels so aristocratic seated in a carriage and four, and 
has the felicity of smiling and bowing, and being smiled 
and bowed at, and being run after and courted by the 
worshippers of the double pile. I hope, though, Mrs. 
Ingledon, you will give us some information of the lin- 
eage of the Braintrees. I know the Ingledons are equal 
to anybody. And then sister Blair may be induced to 
tell us about the Earl of Essex." 

" Well, dear, as we are all together this morning, and 
our families are to be so shortly united, I have no objec- 
tion. The Braintrees, you know, are of great ancestral 
descent themselves, and Col. Braintree's mother was 
Caroline Berkeley, and of the Berkeleys, you remember ; 
Norborne Berkeley de Botetourt was governor of this 
colony before the Bevolution, and he was descended from 
William Berkeley, who was three times governor of the 
colony, runing back to 1G41. He was undoubtedly 
from Berkeley, Earl of Berkeley, Viscount Dursley, and 
Baron Berkeley, of Berkeley Castle, Gloucester County, 
England. I might trace it ba(}k indefinitely, but this will 
suffice. There is no bad blood there." 

Sister Peggy sat back in her chair, interlaced her 



384 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

fingers and twirled her thumbs and said, ^^ Indeed P^ which 
encouraged the good mother to proceed. 

" Yes, dear ;" Maurice de Berlveley, who married Alice, 
daughter of Roger de Berkeley, was ." 

"My dear madam," interrupted Sister Peggy, "how do 
you remember all this genealogy?" 

" Why, it has descended to me, honey, as an heir-loom, 
and wishing to impress it upon Luly, I have treasured it 
in my memory. But she, poor thing, cares no more for 
Koger de Berkeley then she does for a cat. Besides, the 
coat of arms comes direct to the Ingiedons by this mar- 
riage between our families. And then they have that 
Christian motto, ' Dieii avec noits.'' " 

"The marriage will certainly take place at the ap- 
pointed time, then," said sister Rebecca. " There was a 
rumor that it might be postponed." 

" Postponed, indeed," said Mrs. Ingledon. " When 
the word of an Ingledon is pledged, there is no such thing 
as a retraxit. It is certain. We have heard this rumor. 
I hope you will contradict it by authority." 

"Then," said sister Blair, "there is' nothing in the 
Claiborne affair? I thought it very strange; for Mr. 
Blair said that he happened to be walking with Mr. 
Claiborne a very short time ago, and accidentally met 
Luly, and he then, for the first time, introduced the two 
together." 

"Mr. Claiborne!" she said, in a tone of unmitigated 
contempt, " a counter-hopper ! — presumption indeed ! The 
descendants of the Fitzhardinges, whose father was one 
of the companions of William the Conqueror, to come to 
that! Upon my word! what will not the world say 
next ?" 

"Indeed," said sister Peggy, "I know nothing about 
the rumors; but I think, except Mr. Claiborne's want of 
the large pile, he is a very worthy gentleman. But, 



THE BRAINTREES. 3S5 

sister Blair, do give us our descent from the great Earl 
of Essex." 

" Yes," said Mrs. Ingledon, •' I know the blood, and 
I can see it cropping out in this verj room." 

" Come, aunt Blair," said Mrs. Munf ord, " you know 
my husband comes from the Beverleys and the Blands, 
and as we are referrmg to high connections, I want to be 
posted on my side of the house." 

"Well, Sally, the Blairs, honey, were descended from 
Sir David Hunter Blair, of Blairquhain, county of Ayr; 
paternally descended from the Hunters of Hunterston, 
and maternally from the very ancient house of Blair of 
Dunskey, a scion of Blair of Blair. Now, James Hunter 
married Jane, daughter and heir of John Blair of Dnns- 
key, who came from David, Earl of Cassilis, upon which 
occasion he assumed the additional surname of Blair; 
and these Blairs have been settled in the county of Ayr 
full six centuries. Their motto was a Christian motto, 
like yours, Lucj'," — addressing Mrs. Ingledon, — "'j1/;i(? 
probos^ Then, you see, one of James Hunter's sisters 
married George Forbes, the fifth Earl of Granard, and 
he married the foui-th daughter of William, third Earl 
of Essex; and this Earl of Essex was descended from 
Arthur Algernon Capel, Viscount Maiden, of the coun- 
ty of Essex, and Baron Capel of Hadham, Hertford 
county. And while there were the Capels on one side, 
there were the Coningsbys on the other, and an illus- 
trious line on both sides; and hence in the coat of arms 
you will find a lion rampant between three cross croslets 
for Capel, and three conies sejant in sih^er f or Coningsby. 
The supporters are two lions, ducall}^ crowned, and the 
motto '■Fide et Fortitudine^ " 

"My dear," said sister Peggy, "and do you, believe all 
that ? How suital)le to have a lion rampant in a chapel, 
-and the three old hares done up in silver, the most timid 



386 THE TWO PARSONS. 

things on earth, to represent fortitudine, which I have 
heard brother Blair saj was 'bravery.' No wonder bro- 
ther Jordan should say, 'Beyond donl)t, we are descended 
from the Boobies and the Baubees, whether named Jacky 
or Dicky.' " 

" I do not claim any elevation of moral standing from 
this or any other descent," said sister Blair; "but I state- 
a fact. 'Beauty is as beauty does.' That is the motto 
of the Blairs now. And moreover, I do not feel any de- 
gradation from brother Jordan's nonsense." 

" But," said sister Peggy, " you have all been flourish- 
ing under the green bay trees of the Ingledons, the 
Braintrees, and the Berkeley s, of the Blairs and the Es- 
sexes, and the Beverleys and the Blands, I must tell you 
how brother Jordan traces our ancestral lineage. 'Peg- 
gy,' said he, ' this is all nonsense. You know that uncle 
Jacky Bobby was originally named John Roberts, be- 
longing to the grand order of Masons, from having been 
a pewterer in a small shop over the creek. For some 
reason, best known to himself, he desired to be hicog., 
and being a lively fellow, he declared that John and Jack 
were all the same, and it sounded better to his ears to 
have it Jacky; it was more affectionate, and toned it 
down a little.' Then, again, he would say, 'liobert is 
contracted into Bob ; but Bob was too short, he preferred 
the endearing epithet of Bobby, — only another vulgarism 
for Booby, — and so made it Jacky Bobby, or Booby. I 
intend,' said brother Jordan, 'after the stvle of the Ca- 
pels, who named one of their sons Beginald Bandolph 
Algernon Capel, to name my first born son Jacky Bobby 
Booby "Winston.' As sister Blair has given the whole 
genealogy of the Essexes, it was but just that brother 
Jordan's account of the Bobbys should be given in full. 
And thus," said sister Peggy, " putting both geneal- 
ogies together, as far as the testimony goes, I do not see- 



THE BRAINTREES. 387 

but that sister Blair and myself are lineally descended on 
the one side from the great Earl of Essex, and on the 
other from that noble mason, John Roberts, and the 
Riglit Honorable Ricardo Ban bee, or Jacky Bobby and 
Dicky Bobby." 

A servant came in with a nice waiter of plumcake 
and a decanter of cherry bounce for lunch, and all our 
good sisters stopped the genealogies to attend to the 
creature-comforts spread before them. 

We have heard in a former chapter our little Luly's 
protest against the anti-candy regulation at the academy, 
and how she had terminated it with a hurrah for Parson 
Buchanan. When she was engaged to be married, and 
arrangements were being made for the wedding, she had 
made it a sme qua 7wn, that Parson Buchanan should 
perform the ceremony, and Parson Blair should assist 
him in any way that might be agreeable to both. 

This morning Parson Buchanan was seated at the win- 
dow in his office, near the north-east corner of Mayo's 
bridge, which he called his studio, and was enjoying the 
cool breeze from the river, when an elegant coach wa& 
driven to the door. A coach, silver-mounted, with gilded 
embroidered housings, drawn by four blooded bays, with 
an ebo coachman handling the ribbons, like a Nabob's 
darkey, and dressed in livery to correspond to the hous- 
ings of the coach, and a footman behind similarly capari- 
soned. In a moment a gentleman, with whom the Par- 
son was not acquainted, ordered the footman to see 
whether Mr. Buchanan was in, and being informed that 
he was, ushered himself into the room, announcing himself 
as Col. Robert Braintree, of the county of Mecklenburg- 
After a few common-place remarks, he said, " I presume, 
Mr. Buchanan, you have heard that I am about to be mar- 
ried to Miss Ingledon. I have called to request you to hold 
yourself in readiness to perform the ceremony. It is tO' 



388 THE TWO PARSONS, 

take place on Thursday evening next, at her mother's re- 
sidence, at eight o'clock. The young lady has made the 
performance of the ceremony by you an ulthnatum ; and 
moreover, requests that you will bring with you her old 
preceptor. Parson Blair." With some formality, but 
much politeness, he added, " It would be gratifying to me 
for both of you to comply with her request." " Nothing 
will give me more pleasure, I am sure," said the Parson- 
" This is the sprightly lassie I became acquainted with at 
the academy under peculiar circumstances, which made a 
great impression upon me. If she wishes it, tell her I 
will tie a hymeneal knot which neither of you will be 
able easily to unloose." With this the Colonel handed a 
paper neatly folded, which he hoped the Parson wonld 
accept, remarking that perhaps they might not see ea(;h 
other again before the ceremony. While the Parson was 
making many protestations, he bade him good morning, 
and the carriage, which we have seen once before in these 
chapters, rolled smoothly away. 

Parson Buchanan, without opening the paper, unlocked 
his desk, and placed it in one of the inner drawers. " I 
have read," he said " of the man ' which built his house 
upon the sand !' I suppose, however, this clinches the 
nail ; and yet, Bessy Blair said Miss Ingledon positively 
asserted to her that this marriage would never take place. 
Tiiat's the reason, said the old bachelor, I have been 
afraid of young girls ; they don't know their own 
minds." 

We follow the coach in the grand rounds it is making 
this morning. It has stopped at a jeweller's on Main 
street. We enter casually to look around. "You sent 
me," said the Colonel, "a note this morning, informing 
me that the set of pearls I ordered from London had been 
forwarded to your address. I have called to see whether 
it will answer the purpose for which it is intended." The 



THE BRAINTREES. 389 

package was produced, and when opened, exhibited a 
white velvet casket, lined with crimson, containing a 
lovely set of pearls, including spray, necklace, ear-rings, 
bracelets and brooch. The jeweller said, " I have rarely 
seen a more exquisite set;" and the Colonel, after a close 
inspection, remarked, " They will do. I want a plain gold 
ring also," and taking from his pocket a neatly wrapped 
paper, he said, "of this size." Thereupon, not desiring 
to intrude, we bowed ourselves out. 

The next time we encountered the coach, we saw the 
Colonel with little Lilly's uncle going together arm in 
arm into the office of the clerk of the court. Tlie latter 
handed to the clerk a note from his sister, Mrs. Ingledon, , 
giving her consent to the issuing of a license for the mar- 
riage of Col. Braintree and her daughter, Lucy. 

While the clerk was preparing the license, he said, 
" Have you heard of the extreme illness of Chancellor 
Wythe ? He was taken soon after breakfast this morn- 
ing with great nausea, followed in a short time by spasms 
and the rumor is that he and several of his servants have 
been poisoned." 

" Poisoned !" said both gentlemen. " By whom ?" 

" That has not been discovered. I have only heard 
this much." 

Both gentlemen expressed unfeigned regret. The 
truth is, the character of the Chancellor, the position he 
occupied, and his advanced age, caused the rumor to fly 
over the city, and universal anxiety for the consequences 
was felt and expressed. 

Col. Braintree, having obtained the license, handed the 
clerk a piece of gold, which that gentleman, without 
dreaming of the change, as is usual on such occasions, 
blandly dropped into his pocket. The Colonel and his 
friend parting at the door, the Colonel directed Cyrus to 
drive to Mrs. Ingledon's. 



390 THE TWO PARSONS. 

" Is Miss Ingledon at home ?" said the Colonel to Caesar, 
as he walked into the parlor. 

" I believe not," said Cjesar ; " but mistiss is." 

At this moment the high-descended widow came in, 
stepping like a queen, with her long train sweeping be- 
hind. But she condescended to offer her gloved hand to 
the coat-of-arms of the Braintrees and the Berkeleys. 
The Colonel, with courtly air, handed her to a seat, re- 
gretting to be informed that Miss Ingledon was not at 
home. 

" Indeed," said she, " Colonel, you will have to make 
great allowances for the child. She is not like a dame of 
the old school, such as you and I have been accustomed 
to ; and then she has her whims and fancies, and I fear 
her follies will try you deeply. But she is very affec- 
tionate. I tliink I can say all will be right in the 
end." 

" I have been bantered," he said, " by old friends, who 
retail rumors of postponements and that sort of thing; 
but I have full confidence in your assurances, my dear 
madam." 

" The idea !" she said, drawing herself up to her full 
height, " of an Ingledon violating her promise, or wilfully 
deceiving. When the word of an Ingledon is passed, it 
is as firmly established as a decree of Darius." 

" I have brought Miss Ingledon," he said, " a small 
casket, containing a trifling bridal present, which I hope 
will not be unacceptable. I could have desired a hand- 
somer set, but I left the selection to the jeweller in Lon- 
don, and the casket has just been received. I hope, my 
dear madam, you will think them appropriate." 

Opening the casket, she said, " They are chaste and 
elegant. The very counterpart of a set Lady Skipwith 
wore at her marriao:e." 

Leaving the casket in her hands, he said, " I go, madam, 



THE BRAIJSTTREES. 391 

trusting in your kind offices and kind assurances," and 
the Colonel bowed himself gracefully from her presence. 

The magnificent coach had just passed beyond view 
when our Luly came into the parlor, where her mother 
was still sitting, making a second inspection of the casket 
and its contents. 

" See here, dear," she said, " you are of more conse- 
quence than you imagined ;" and she displayed the jewels. 
" Col. Braintree — " 

Little Luly's eyes flashed tire. " Take the hateful 
things out of my sight. I will not receive them. I in- 
tend to bring this matter to an end." 

" My dear, you are not aware of the import of your 
language, I am sure, nor to whom you are addressing 
it." 

" I have alfection for you, mother — none for Colonel 
Braintree ; and whatever the consequences may be, this 
match shall never take place." And she walked out of 
the room like an Ingledon. As soon as she entered her 
room, she threw off her wrappings, opened lier writing- 
desk, and indited the following note, while her feelings 
were aroused : 

" CoL. Robert Braintree, Swaji Tavern : 

" Dear Sir : My mother has just shown me a casket 
of jewels you left this morning as a bridal present for me. 
I return it with thanks for your liberality and kindness. 
You will see, I am sure, the impropriety of my accepting 
it. I have made up my mind, after too much delay, to 
terminate our engagement. This resolve is irrevocal>le. 
I shall respect you as my mother's friend ; but as to my- 
self, my feelings, or my want of proper feeling, leaves 
me no hope of happiness from this source. Remember 
me only as a thoughtless and foolish girl. 

«LULT." 



392 THE TWO PARSONS. 

As soon as she had finished this note and directed it, 
she took it directly to her mother. " I have no secrets 
from you, dear mother ; read this, and please send it off 
with the jewels by Ctesar." 

The pride of the Ingledons tossed lier head. The ex- 
pected mother of the descendant of Viscount Dursley and 
Baron Berkeley of Berkeley, made a low obeisance. The 
blood of the Fitzhardinges mantled on her brow. " I 
shall do no such thing. My word is pledged, and it shall 
stand. And I tell you, moreover, you shall do no such 
thing. I shall guard your honor, and I am able to pro- 
tect my own. This is my unalterable determination." 

" Then," said Luly, " I wash my hands of the conse- 
quences." She returned to her room, threw herself on 
the bed, and sobbed aloud. 



CHAPTER XXYI. 

UNEXPECTED INTERVIEW BETWEEN LITTLE LULY AND 

ME. CLAIBORNE. 

SOME queer things happen in this world of ours. 
Young people who love one another are sometimes 
separated by a fate that seems to be inexorable, notwith- 
standing the most strenuous efforts made by themselves 
and their friends to keep them together. Then, again, 
others are drawn together irresistibly by circumstances 
entirel}^ beyond their control, when they are making 
earnest efforts to avoid one another. We happen to 
know that our Thom was precisely in this latter predica- 
ment. Though he had been assured by Miss Ingledon 
herself that her much-talked-of marriage would never 
take place, yet he had been as certainly assured by the 
clerk of the court that the marriage license had actually 
been issued; and he could not believe tliat a gentleman 
would obtain a license to be married unless he was cer- 
tain of his situation. He had heard, too, that Parson 
Buchanan had positively been applied to, to perform the 
marriage ceremony. These things were sufficient to 
silence any lambent feeling playing around his heart, 
amounting even to a delicate preference and sentiment. 
He had seen from his intercourse with Col. Braintree at 
the tavern from day to day, that his arrangements were 
progressing to consummation, and thinking it best to 
avoid such dangerous society, he had kept himself aloof 
from every place where, by possibility, he supposed Miss 
Ingledon and himself might meet. It so happened that 
2.5 



394 THE TWO PARSONS. 

the senior partner of the firm with whom our Thorn was 
living came into the oiiice where he was busily engaged 
in posting accounts, and with a letter in his hand, saidj 
"Mr. Claiborne, I have an important communication to 
make to the Governor this morning, and wishing to be 
certain that he receives it, I will thank you to take it to 
him." Of course tlie letter was taken with promptness, 
and an evident zeal for dispatch. Thinking he would find 
the Governor most probably at the Capitol, he sought him 
in the Council Chamber; and after delivering the letter, 
was about to retire, when the Governor said, " this is Mr. 
Claiborne, I believe." 

"It is, sir." 

"The information desired can be readily obtained from 
Mr. Patrick Gibson. I will endorse a request for him to 
furnish it. I will thank you to do me the favor to say 
to Mr. Gibson, I hope he will defer the little appoint- 
ment we made for day after to-morrow evening, as I in- 
tend being at the wedding of my friend, Col. Braintree." 
Mr. Claiborne said it -would give him pleasure to do so, 
but there was a considerable twitching of the muscles 
around and about the heart when the wedding was al- 
luded to. The certainty of the event, however, had 
cooled down our Thorn's blood several degrees. Lawyers 
in defending criminals, where the possibility of a doubt of 
guilt exists, invariably inform the jury that it is their 
duty to give the prisoner the benefit of the doubt. Now, 
Thom believed the evidence proved the coming wedding 
beyond all reasonable doubt ; and yet there was a single 
sentence uttered by Miss Ingledon at their last inter- 
view which had lingered in his mind, and been turned 
over and over, and would not vanish at his bidding. 
"When the day comes, and there has been no wed- 
ding," she had said, " then come and get another rose-bud 
in the place of the withered ones." 



LULY INGLEDOJSr AND MR. CLAIBOKNE. 395 

" I ought to have taken advantage of the doubt which 
these words imply," thought Thorn, "and thrown m^^self 
in her way. How could she know what my feelings 
were when I never expressed them ? " And thus musing 
as he went, he encountered old Sy Gilliatt, the negro 
fiddler, who was as well known in those days in Virginia 
as Ole Bull and Yieuxtemps have been in the modern 
world. We do not pretend to say that Sy could rival 
these w^onderful musicians on their cremonas, but we 
doubt if there is a man in these days, uninstructed, who 
<iould draw a livelier and a bolder bow on a fiddle than 
Sy Gilliatt, or who could play in better time a Virginia 
reel or an old-fashioned minuet. We take pleasure in 
referring to these characters of the olden time, whether 
white or black; but among the more respectable class of 
the colored population there was something in their de- 
portment which commanded the respect of others, as cer- 
tainly as retinement is a passport into any society. Sy 
Gilliatt always attracted attention, not only by his dress, 
but by his courtly appearance and extreme politeness. 
He was tall and slim, with unusually long arms and legs, 
and of a color we call gingerbread. He wore a brown 
wig of long, straight, and tine hair, with side curls, and 
was always erect and dignified. When dressed for a 
ball, a jam, or a squeeze, as our fashionable routs are 
termed in later times, Sy wore a well-known embroidered 
silk coat and vest of rather faded lilac, black satin shorts, 
silk stockings, and pumps decorated with large plated 
buckles. His fiddle seemed to fit in between his head 
and shoulders, as if his neck had been measured and 
moulded for the purpose ; and his head played about with 
peculiar unction and emphasis when the dancers violated 
time or tune, for which he had a critic's ear. He wa 
the principal musician at all private entertainments ; knew 
everybody; and those who knew and respected him were 



396 THE TWO PARSONS. 

by no means limited. Taking off his hat in a most re- 
spectful manner, and making a courtly bow, he saluted 
our Thom, with "Mass Thorn, your sarvant, sir. How 
you do this morning ? " 

"Thank you, Sy," shaking him by the hand. "When- 
ever I see you, Sy, I think of parties and dancing, the 
young ladies and the beaux." 

" Jes so. Mass Thom. You looks so hearty and buck- 
ish. Mass Thom, I couldn't help stopping you; and says 
I to myself, as I saw you coming, I shall have to play at 
Mass Thom's wedding 'fore long. We are going to have 
a tearing down wedding at tiie widow's, you know, Huc- 
com you let that old man cut all you beaux out ? Why 
didn't you cut in there yourself, Mass Thom ? I gwine 
rosin up the old bow, and de strings shall be all right." 

" Poor people can't vie with rich ones, Sy. My time 
hasn't come yet; but when it does come, I shall expect 
you to give me an extra curl or two." 

" fU take down the fiddle and the bow den, Mass 
Thom." And the two passed on, 

Tliom thought of tlie rosebuds and of the beautiful 
donor, and old Sy's question, " Why didn't you cut in ?" 
and went on in a brown study, AYliile he is executing 
his errand, we will look in at the home of the once play- 
ful, though now sad, pensive, but lovely girl, who was 
the cause of so much conversation, and of such unusual 
excitement and preparation. 

Everything indicated bustle and confusion. She her- 
self was the only one who took no part in the excitement 
manifested l)y the inmates of her mother's house. She 
had scarcely noticed, and certainly the glance had excited 
no pleasure, the white satin robe, witli its rich lace trim- 
mings and flowing train, w^iich had been procured with 
no little trouble from the most celebrated modiste in Lon- 
don. She had seen her mother and her attendants lay 



LULY INGLEDON AND MR. BEAINTEEE. 397 

out the dress, with all the rich paraphernalia to accom- 
panj it, on the beautiful coverlet to the tastefully cur- 
tained bed, and her heart sank within her. The little 
satin slippers, with heels at least two inches high, and 
turned up at the toes like a pair of skates, lav neglected on 
the bureau, and by them the jfinest pair of white silk em- 
broidered stockings, looking as if they were intended for 
an infant's arm, which might be slipped with perfect ease 
through her jewelled ring. She had not even noticed 
the orange blossoms for her raven hair, the costly veil, 
intended to half conceal her timid and modest feelings ; 
and as she took in all this preparation, a saddened sigh 
burst from her overcharged heart. She turned away as 
if from vanities. She knew not what to do ; she yearned 
for sympathy and friendly aid. She looked with wistful 
eyes to her once sympathizing mother ; but she would 
hear no appeal for postponement or delay. The cere- 
mony for which these preparations were being made had 
become to lier distasteful, and the source of unmingled 
pain ; and the natural feeling of resistance had increased 
in intensity by the opposition she had encountered. She 
felt a stronger antipathy to the marriage, because no ap- 
peal she had made to the gentleman himself had received 
consideration or kindness. It seemed to be the intention 
of all that the match should be consummated against her 
declared desire to postpone it. She had written him a 
positive discardal, which her mother informed her had 
not been sent, and the wliole arrangements were progress- 
ing. The thought crossed her mind. What would I not 
give to escape from this man ? How can I bring myself 
to acknowledge that I will obey him, and serve him, love, 
honor and keep him, until death do us part, when I can 
hardly reconcile it to myself to respect him now ? She 
took her bonnet, and throwing a close veil over it, glided 
out of the house, seeking in the refreshing breeze of the 



398 THE TWO PARSONS. 

balmy day to cool her fevered braiu. She wended her 
way aloue through many of tlie streets of the city, until 
she came to the corner nearly opposite the residence of 
Parson Blair, intending to call upon his daughter, her 
friend and bridesmaid. But just at this point she was 
met by our old friend, Thorn, who was coming across 
from the residence of Mr. Gibson, who, as we said else- 
where, lived opposite Parson Blair's. With the sad 
thoughts that occupied her mind, — the near approach of 
a marriage which she once thoughtlessly approved, now 
bitterly repented, — with a budding hope, scarcely acknow- 
ledged, of a more congenial spirit; with this hidden hope, 
never uttered or intimated, apparently gone, but linger- 
ing in the secret recesses of her heart, every feeling de- 
pressed with dejection and gloom ; the unexpected en- 
counter between these two caused a sudden reaction, that 
made the blood come and go with a flutter that nearly 
deprived her of breath. She felt sick and faint; but 
when she met his open, frank, and manly face, express- 
ing surprise and pleasure, and saw the liquid glow of his 
hazel eye, she lifted her veil, and her own black eyes 
sparkled with a brilliancy that gave an electric thrill. 
Each grasped the hand of the other, and there was a 
pleasant greeting between them. 

"Miss Luly, — you know you said I might call you 
Luly," and a sunny smile from her beamed in his face, — 
"where are you going all alone ?" 

"I was just at my journey's end," she said; "I was 
going in here to confer with my friend, Bessie Blair. I 
have been in much anxiety and trouble since we met." 

"Ladies who are going to be married," he said, "may 
feel some anxiety, but they ought to be cheerful and 
happy. The gentlemen who lose them may roam about 
like troubled spirits; they have reason to be sad, like 
myself." 



LULT INGLEDON AND MR. CLAIBORNE. 399 

" Y^ou ! why, you never come near me ! Did I not tell 
you when I saw you last, that that would never be a B. ?" 

" Ah ! but ladies think they have the right to keep 
such matters secret. I confess I do not understand it 
now. Here I have an invitation ;" and he took from his 
pocket a beautifully engraved card ; and it read thus : 

" Mrs. Ingledon requests the pleasure of Mr. Clai- 
borne's compan}^ on Thursday evening, at eight o'clock, 
at the marriage of her daughter, Lucy, with Col. Robert 
Braintree." 

'' Is tliat you ?" Her face flushed painfully, and she said 
with spirit: "That is my mother's invitation, not mine." 

"Then I understand that the license is obtained; the 
parson spoken to." 

"That is Col. Braintree's action, with my mother's 
consent, not with mine." 

"That important personage, old Sy Gilliatt, is to be 
on hand also ; all the paraphernalia provided ; all the 
town agoo; for the frolic : and vet that will not be a B. ?" 
She turned pale with emotion and said slowly, with 
measured emphasis and quivering lips : " Such things do 
not often happen, Mr. Claiborne ; but when they do, 
there are hearts ready to break. I told you that when 
you received my invitation you must come to the wed- 
ding. I did not send the one you have ; I advise you 
not to come. When the rosebuds are withered, I said, 
come and get a fresh one. You • threw them away, I 
suppose." 

He took his pocket-book from his left breast-pocket, 
and, opening it, bid her look between the leaves of the 
memorandum-book. Each rose neatly pressed, and the 
geranium leaf almost green, both deliciously fragrant. 

" You kept them notwithstanding all these proofs !" 
she said. " The fresh bud I promised is growing on the 
stem. Here we are at the gate ; we must part." 



400 THE TWO PARSONS. 

"May I not go in with you?" 

"Kot now." She oifered her hand, and the gentle 
pressure he gave was slightly, but yet perceptibly, re- 
turned. They bade each other adieu. That little, sen- 
sitive pressure was mesmeric. 

Thom walked slowly away, deeply pondering on what 
he had seen, heard, and felt. 

Our Luly, as she opened the door, cast one lingering 
look behind, and then closing it after her, was the next 
minute in the embrace of her bridesmaid. 

"Oh, Bessie, dear, I am sick and faint;" and she fell 
again on her bosom and burst into a flood of tears. 

" What is the matter, Luly, love ? " 

She threw herself into a chair, and covering her face 
with her handkerchief, sobbed and laughed hysterically. 
Except the sighs, that seemed to come from her inmost 
soul, she uttered not a word. 

" Why, Luly, I am astonished to see you this morning, 
and in such distress ; and to come all alone, and on foot, 
the day before your wedding, when you ought to be joy- 
ous, dear ! " 

" Wedding ! " she replied with a hollow tone, and she 
looked into Bessie's face with swimming eyes; "joyous 
at such a prospect ! Ah ! it is to escape all this I have 
come, to give vent to my troubled soul. Oh ! the bitter- 
ness of woe ! My grief must have utterance, and I must 
have sympathy ! The nearer it comes, the darker and 
deeper the cloud — the more solemn, the more awful, the 
impending doom. Oh ! give me a kindred spirit — some 
congenial, cheerful, liappy soul — to wed. I cannot, I 
dare not, go through the mockery of this. Mockery of 
pretending love, when I hate. Hypocrisy and deceit I 
detest. I cannot do it ? " And she burst again into the 
deepest sobs. " How can I stop it ? Talk of bridal 
smiles when the heart has no cheerful throb ! I will not 



LULY INGLEDON AND MR. CLAIBORNE. 401 

do it, Bessie dear; but it has gone so far, liow can I pre- 
vent it ? They are all against me ! It frightens me to 
death to see the dresses and the ornaments. I cannot, I 
will not, array myself for such a purpose. It runs me 
crazy to see the preparations; to know that the city is 
invited — that I cannot countermand and forbid them ; to 
know that my good mother is worrying herself to pro- 
mote my happiness, as she thinks, and that I must thwart 
her wishes. She who was always loving and kind to me 
till now. Ah me ! " And slie calmed down, and wiped 
away her tears. " I have told him ; I have told her ; I 
have begged, implored, wept; and all the satisfaction I 
receive, all the consolation I get, is, that I am silly and 
foolish. Bessie, dear, I am now resolved to be Jirm, 
at least. Nothing shall force nae to utter before the 
minister those solemn words. Tell me what I must 
do!" 

"Luly, love, you ask my advice.. I have thought for 
some time that you did not love Col. Braintree. I did 
not know, but I thought there was something wrong. If 
your feelings are such as you describe, I, too, would act 
as you say. I would not falsify my conscience; I would 
not with feigned lips vow to love when I did not. I 
think 3"ou are acting properly now, dear; but you post- 
poned it too long. You ought not to have made your 
private matters so public. You ought not to have made 
all yonr preparations. Now you will have to brave public 
censure, and to meet general disappointment; and it re- 
quires a brave heart to withstand all that will be said. 
There will be ridicule enough. They will call you flirt, 
jilt — hard names enough ; but if, as you say, you intend 
to be firm, it will pass away. It will be the theme of a 
nine days' wonder and town gossip; but it will die away 
into a little merriment, and you will have to endure the 
jests. Better that than a life's misery 



•>■) 



402 THE TWO PARSONS. 

"Ah ! dear, all this I have foreseen. I have thought 
over it, waking and dreaming. It has been a bitter cup 
to drink; but I have done everything in my power to 
prevent it, and I have not prevailed with my friends. 
As soon as I came from school, I was taken by my mo- 
ther to Col. Braintree's neighborhood. I was a novice 
in the world ; had seen few gentlemen in society ; was 
full of romantic notions ; saw a great display of wealth ;, 
heard him praised, flattered, caressed by his neighbors ;, 
saw that he was a man of position in society and honored 
by the people. I was flattered by the attentions of such, 
a man to so young a girl ; was shown his splendid old 
mansion, adorned and beautiiied with exotics and loveliest 
plants, coming up to my notions of a nobleman's palace,, 
with his magnilicent equipage and every other comfort. 
My vanity was gratified, and my mother showed in every 
imaginable way that it would be a source of happiness tO' 
her if I would accept him. When he proposed formally, 
I did accept him. But when I returned home, ajid began, 
to think and test my feelings, I found there was no real 
love ; and as we were thrown more and more together, at 
longer intervals, his coldness and formality chilled me. 
His display of wealth and his ostentation created a feel- 
ing of disgust. His show of erudition seemed to me not 
to be natural, but forced. His want of sympathy proved 
that we were not congenial ; and I began to be distant,. 
and a stiffness sprang up between us that increased at 
each interview. When I finally summoned up resolution 
and asked for time to test my feelings, he coldly ridiculed 
the 'notion,' as he called it, and induced my mother to 
hurry matters, and refused all postponement. Coldness 
was succeeded by dislike, until at last detestation has 
taken the place of imagined good feeling, and we must 
be separated now and for ever. I am ready to brave the 
world. There is no alternative. If they force me before 



LULT INGLEDON AND MR. CLAIBORNE. 403 

the minister, I will say, ' I will not ! ' I wrote liim a 
formal diseardal, bnt my mother refused to send it." 

" Well, Luly dear, with such feelings, I think you are 
acting properly. What shall / do ? Shall I come to- 
morrow night ? " 

"Bessie, I do not know what to say. They will all be 
there, I suppose. Yes, come, and sit with me in my 
chamber. I shall want some friend with a warm heart 
near me, dear. To you alone I have unburthened myself, 
and it has relieved my aching heart. The tears I have 
shed have done me good. I shall feel happier now that 
one friend knows my sorrow. Yes, dear, come early ; it 
will afford me great relief." 

And so these bosom friends communed together. 



CHAPTER XXVIL 

THE ASSEMBLING OF THE GUESTS AT THE MAERIAGE. 

THE evening for the nuptials had arrived, and the 
married and the single were on the (jui vive. A 
great bridal of two wealthy houses was to be celebrated, 
a grand party was on the tapis ; the costly attire of all 
the belles and the neatest habiliments of the beaux were 
in requisition, and they were all in full feather for the 
w^edding. There had, indeed, been a rumor of a post- 
ponement. The good people argued that rumors gene- 
rally had some foundation, and general disappointment 
was the result; but as the day glided on, and no confir- 
mation of the report had reached the invited, all doubt was 
removed, equipages were ordered, and a regular attiring 
of the gay monde commenced. 

We called at the Swan to see our friend, Col. Brain- 
tree, and to know from himself that there was no mistake. 
We knew it was all right, because his elegant coach was 
already at the door; and upon entering his room we 
found him, with his attendants, the very pink of perfec- 
tion. The Colonel's dress was an extra fine blue broad- 
cloth coat with gilt buttons and white satm facings, in 
the newest London style; white satin vest, just changed, 
according to the extremes of fashion, from the very long 
to the very shortest waist ; a gold watch-chain and two large, 
handsome seals pendant from under the vest; black satin 
shorts and silk stockings, with neatly -fitting pumps; white 
cravat ; ruified shirt, with diamond pin ; his hair elegantly 
powdered, and white kid gloves in his hand, ready to put 



ASSEMBLING OF THE GUESTS AT THE MAKRIAGE. 405 

on. He looked to be about forty, but his tout ensemble 
was quite prepossessing. His attendants were in full 
suits of blue, faced with white cassimere, with white cas- 
simere vests, white silk socks, and pumps, and were very 
cheerfully cracking jokes upon the Colonel and each 
other. There w^ere champagne glasses on the table "and 
a dead cock in the pit ; " but upon my greeting the Colo- 
nel and the gentlemen with " good luck and many happy 
years," they cut the wire which restrained the second 
game chicken. We took a bumper to the coming bliss, 
and then, as had been previously arranged, one of the 
groomsmen entered another carriage in waiting, and posted 
off at a sweeping gait for Parsons Buchanan and Blair. 
We hurried away, promising to meet them at Philippi; 
but as we passed rapidly along the portico we encoun- 
tered our young friends, Claiborne and Clopton ; the last 
evidently prepared for the wedding, the first in his every- 
day rigging. " Why, Thorn, old fellow, not going to the 
wedding? Grieving at being forestalled? Don't take 
these things so seriously. Hand a first-rate bouquet to 
the bride, and be as bright as a star. Harness up and 
come along; we shall have lots of fun." 

We are to be the master of ceremonies ; the old lady 
and her brother have both requested our assistance ; and 
here we are at the old family mansion. It is a beautiful, 
balmy, starlight night, the yellow tinge left by the sun 
still faintly visible in the west, and yet the principal 
story of the house is in a blaze of illumination. There 
were no gas or illuminating oils used in those days; sper- 
maceti and wax candles of every color and size were the 
light-giving principle, and any deficiency in brilliancy 
was made up by the superabundant number of chande- 
liers, candelabra, and silver branch-candlesticks. These 
then performed the ofiice which gas-fixtures perform 
now. 



406 THE TWO PARSONS. 

As we entered the spacious hall, everything appeared 
ready for the dance. Carpets all up and floors well 
waxed and shining. Under the beautiful circular ma- 
hogany flight of steps was a large table, bountifully 
spread with immense bowls of iced punch and julep, 
large square bottles of brandy, rum and old rye, and cut- 
glass decanters filled with the choicest wines, burgundy, 
port and madeira. Then near the door entering into the 
parlor was the stand for the musicians, consisting of three 
fiddlers and performers on the tamborine and triangle. 

We entered the parlor, pannelled around in the old- 
style, from ceiling to floor, and found everything ex- 
quisitely arranged; the hundreds of lights reflected from 
the mirrors casting rosy tints to suit the softest com- 
plexion, while the delicate perfume of fresh flowers per- 
vaded the room. The heavy furniture had been removed 
to make space for the dancers ; but a velvet covered table 
-was placed opposite the entrance door, and upon it the 
old family Bible and prayer-book, the latter opened at 
the form for the solemnization of matrimony. 

We passed through into the dining room, only partially 
lighted as yet; but light enough to discover that two 
massive tables were literally crowded with all that could 
please the eye or gratify the most fastidious appetite. 
One was ornamented to captivate the imagination of the 
wildest female fancy, and cater to the daintiest palate ; 
the other bountifully displayed meats and viands to win 
the applause of the most inveterate epicure. All was set 
out in cut-glass and silver, beautiful and costly. Then 
the most delicately flavored cordials, champagne, and 
other wines of the oldest vintage and best brands were 
in profusion. In truth, there was nothing omitted which 
money could buy, which fashion prescribed as necessary, 
or taste could display to the greatest advantage. 

" And now," said hei- uncle, " after all this trouble and 



ASSEMBLING OF THE GDESTS AT THE MARRIAGE, 407 

expense, Lucy is in a woman's tantrum; so different from 
her ordinary mild, sweet character, that no one knows 
what to do, what to expect, what to say, or what to make 
of her conduct, much less what to do with all these things, 
and with the invited guests. Sister says she has seated 
herself in her chair, and will not make one movement 
towards arraying herself, or making any preparation to 
receive her company." " Oh !'■ we said, " slie is only 
frio'htened a little. The excitement of the scene around 
her, and the arrival of the guests will rouse her to the 
situation, and she will present herself in a short time 
more beautiful from her timid shyness, arrayed in loveli- 
ness suited to the occasion." While thus communing to- 
gether, the mantle clock, with its clear silver tone, told 
that the hour for the guests had come; and in a very 
few minutes the carriages began to rattle, and the hurry 
and bustle of the servants, ushering into the reception 
room the elite of Richmond, indicated that the eventful 
moment had at length arrived. As they are passing from 
the reception room and entering the parlor, we will glance 
around at some of the more prominent personages, who 
honored the occasion with their presence. 

We notice Maj. James Gibbon, the hero of Stoney 
Point, with his lady, his son, Frederick, and two daugh- 
ters, Maria and Betsy ; Thomas Boiling and Archie 
Robertson, and their sister, Polly ; Mr. and Mrs. Wick- 
ham, he the distinguished barrister of those as well as 
more modern times, and a most courtly and refined gen- 
tleman ; Governor Page, the then Governor of the State, 
and his wife ; John Marshall, the late ambassador to 
France, the eminent jurist, and subsecpient chief-justice 
of the supreme court of the United States ; Dr. William 
Foushee and his beautiful daughters, Isabella and Char- 
lotte, the former afterwards the wife of Thomas Ritchie, 
and the latter the belle of the day, admitted by all to be 



\ 



408 THE TWO PARSONS. 

the most lovely girl in Virginia ; Thomas Kitchie, the 
far-famed editor of the Enquirer^ who had then but a short 
time ushered his paper into being ; Dr. McClurg and 
daughter, another delicate and refined lady, subsequently 
Mrs. Wickham ; Mr. Gallego, the founder of the cele- 
brated Gallego Mills, far-famed and world-renowned ; Dr. 
and Mrs. Lyon; Dr. DcCaw and his wife; Dr. Brocken- 
brough and lady, he the subsequent President of the 
Bank of Virginia, which had just been incorporated by 
the General Assembly; William Wirt, the author and 
statesman, clerk of the House of Delegates, judge, and 
the well-known attorney-general of the United States ; 
Mr. and Mrs. Gamble and daughters ; Mr. P. Norborne 
ISTicholas, the attorney-general of the State in later days, 
and his wife ; Daniel Call, a leading member of the Rich- 
mond bar, and his accomplished lady ; the Harvies, Am- 
blers, Gwathmeys, Mr. and Mrs. Pickett, Mr. and Mrs. 
John Mayo and their daughter, Maria, afterwards Mrs. 
Gen. Scott, there wei-e few greater belles than she was ; 
George Fisher and lady ; Col. and Mrs. Bullock , Maj. 
Price, of Revolutionary renown, and his good lady. 
These, with hundreds of others, made up a gay and ele- 
gant company, and they were waiting impatiently for the 
ceremony. 

" Oh ! then, my dear friends, what splendor was seen. 
Each dame that was there was arrayed like a queen ; 
The camel, the ostrich, the tortoise, the bear. 
And the kid, might have found each his spoils on the fair ; 
Though their dresses were made of the finest of stuff. 
It must be confessed they wei-e scanty enough," — 

At least on the neck, arms and shoulders; but they 
made up for this by the immense trains that gracefully 
swept along as they promenaded arm in arm with the 



ASSEMBLING OF THE GUESTS AT THE MARRIAGE. 409 

beaux. In a short time the ministers, Buchanan and 
Blair, came into the room ; the former, as the officiating 
clergyman, in his white robes, and the latter in ordinary 
dress. Their entrance was followed by a general move- 
ment of tlie crowd, eagerly pressing forward to obtain 
an eligible position to see the bride and the groom, to 
note her bridal attire and bashful demeanor. Just then 
the groom was received by Mrs. Ingledon's brother, and 
escorted into a private apartment. We took charge of 
the attendants in the reception room. We could not help 
noticing that the Colonel did not seem to be altogether 
at his ease; there was an indescribable something in the 
manner of his reception which foretold disappointment 
and annoyance. 

''Col. Braintree," he said, "I have brought you here 
to save your feelings as far as possible ; I have the painful 
duty to tell you that Lucy refuses positively to permit 
the ceremony to proceed, declaring that she has changed 
her mind, and nothing that her mother or friends can say 
will induce her to alter her determination for a moment. 
She has made not the slightest preparation, and refuses 
absolutely to do so. Every persuasion has been used to 
no purpose. There is no alternative that I know of but 
to submit. We all sincerely regret it, but it cannot be 
helped. If we could have believed for a moment that 
she really intended to pursue this course we would have 
informed you sooner." 

The Colonel at first appeared perfectly speechless, then 
summoning all his resolution to his aid, he said : " This is 
a blow that I did not anticipate, but I shall bear it with- 
out a murmur. Perhaps, if I could be allowed to see 
her !" 

"My dear sir, I have seen her, and I assure you it 
would be of no earthly use. Slie says she did everything 
in her power to induce her mother, and you. Colonel, to 
26 



410 THE TWO PARSONS. 

consent to a postponement of the marriage, that she 
might test her feelings ; her request was not acceded to, 
and she has formed lier resohition now. She regrets it 
has been dela_yed so long; but thinks it would be sinful 
in her to be married when her heart is not in unison with 
the occasion. It is all her own action, against the advice 
of every friend she has ; but she is fearfully resolute. I 
hope you will excuse me, and I can only advise you under 
the circumstances quietly to retire, and we will endeavor 
to dispose of our guests." 

Upon this, the Colonel retired through the side door; 
and entering his carriage, which had been detained at his 
request, drove to his lodgings with feelings that can bet- 
ter be imagined than described. 

Luly's uncle returned to the parlor, and taking the 
Parson by the arm, walked with him into the recess of 
one of the windows. There appeared to be an ominous 
whispering and solemnity about his manner, and an evi- 
dent surprise in the countenance of the Parson, which in 
a few moments spread itself to the guests, and the 
wdiisperings became more and more catching. Then 
there was a pause in the promenade, a moment of silence 
throughout the assembly, that became paiuful while it 
lasted, followed by a buzz and a murmur of regret suf- 
ficient to try the nerves of the most cold and calculating. 

Then there was a conference between Parsons Buch- 
anan and Blair, and the only audible remark made was 
by Parson Blair : " Well, well ; dear, dear ! " 

Luly's uncle had a difficult role to perform; but, per- 
ceiving Miss Charlotte Foushee and Miss Mayo standing 
together, he took the two Parsons, each by an arm, and 
making way to these beautiful belles, said to the ladies : 
" I have provided you with the best escorts to the refresh- 
ments in the next room. Our wedding is indefinitely 
postponed, but you must accept Mrs. Ingledon's hospita- 



ASSEMBLING OF THE GUESTS AT THE MAKKIAGE. 4:11 

ble welcome." He then said aloud : " My friends, I have 
to announce that circumstances over vi^hich we have no 
control have prevented the marriage which we expected ; 
but we hope you will participate in the refreshments pre- 
pared for you before we separate. The Parsons will lead 
the way." A universal, pleasant smile pervaded the 
countenances of all the guests, and with one accord they 
followed to enjoy the repast. At first, as was natural, 
there was a hesitancy, which it is almost impossible to 
overcome on such occasions; but with such gentlemen 
and ladies as were present at this feast, with their ease 
and elegance of manner, and fund of good humor and 
wit, it soon passed away. When the champagne bottles 
were popping in every part of the room cheerfulness and 
pleasantry assumed their wonted place. 

"Miss Foushee," said Parson Blair, "when you and 
brother Buchanan are engaged to be married you had 
better have him tied, or he will slip out of the noose. It 
is a way he has ; and that is the reason he has been so 
long a bachelor." 

"Bachelor, indeed," says the Parson; "I'm nothing 
but a spry young beau, and, besides. Miss Charlotte ties 
her knots with heart-strings so strong that they cannot 
be undone." 

"When we send for you to perform the ceremony. 
Parson, there will be no disappointment, rely upon it," 
replied Miss Charlotte. 

And so they went on cracking their jokes until the 
Parsons retired, and the company gradually dropped off 
one by one. The room becoming evidently thinned, the 
remainder retired together, leaving a quiet but gloomy 
house. 

Few can realize the feelings and distress of our little 
Luly up to the time of the assembling of the company. 
Generally alone in her* own apartment, surrounded by all 



412 THE TWO PARSONS. 

the elegant preparations and adornings for a magnificent 
wedding, when she looked up her eye fell upon some 
portion of her beautiful habiliments, that under other 
circumstances would have given her such a thrill of plea- 
sure. A deep sigh would break from her overcharged 
heart; then, to avert her attention, she would sit staring 
vacantly and seeing nothing. When her mother would 
enter the room, and appeal to her most feelingly not to 
disgrace herself and the family, she would throw herself 
upon her mother's neck, and sob and weep as if her little 
heart would break, uttering no word of reproach and 
making no reply to all her entreaties, but a determined 
shake of the head. When Bessie Blair came and sat 
with her, the depth of her distress would be slightly as- 
suaged by the kind sympathy of her friend. When the 
company began to assemble, a shudder seemed to thrill 
through her system, and she trembled like an aspen leaf. 
When her uncle came, at her mother's request, to use his 
influence, and begged her to change her determination, 
then, aroused to the utmost pitch of courage, she re- 
sponded, coolly and firmly, " Never ! no, never !" When 
she was told that the groom, and groomsmen had arrived, 
she arose from her seat and paced the apartment. Turn- 
ing to her mother, who had just entered, she said: "I 
will never leave this apartment while that man is in the 
house. I^Tever! I am no jilt, no coquette; it is against 
my nature ; but I will not, in the face of heaven, vow to 
love a man whose presence I cannot even bear. I have 
counted the cost — the ridicule, the gossip, the abuse, the 
odium ! I will not! " And she sat down again, and her 
arms dropped by her side in perfect exhaustion. 

When all were gone, and the old family nm'se came and 
sat down by her side, her hands on her knees, with fin- 
gers interlaced, and in a softened tone said, " Misses, honey, 
for my part, I think you has done right. I been sorry 



ASSEMBLING OF THE GUESTS AT THE MAKRIAGE. 413 

for you, chile, un I always did say, that the difference 
betwixt you un him was too great. You is young enough 
yet, honey. When I was a gal, ef I hadn't loved Caesar 
dey couldn't a made me marry him, God knows; and 
folks ought to love one another, cause there is heep of 
trials as dey goes along together." 

The softened tone, the kind manner of old Fannie, and 
the sympathizing words she uttered, all in unison with 
her own feelings, caused the big tears to well up into lit- 
tle Luly's eyes, and she smiled for the first time during 
the day. When Col. Braintree retired a weight had been 
removed from her heart, which brought relief inexpress- 
ible ; and now the kind words of the old family nurse 
cheered her drooping spirits. 

" Kind words, mammy, are grateful to the troubled 
heart." Then the good nurse folded up all the wedding 
apparel and quietly disposed of them. 



CHAPTER XXVIIL 

CHANCELLOR WYTHE'S DEATH. 

WE have carried oin- Parsons to places not usually 
frequented by men of their cloth. We have de- 
scribed them as they appeared in their day. If there 
was anything objectionable in their conduct, let those 
who think so draw a moral from it, and teach those who 
agree with tliem to avoid the evil. The characters of 
men should be described with truthfulness. Let the evil 
be avoided ; let the good be imitated. For our own part, 
we admire them for the common sense they displayed, 
for placing themselves in positions where the good they 
might do overbalanced the appearance of evil. 

The bedside of the sick and dying is a position recog- 
nized by all as appropriate for a minister. However 
hardened the sinner, however vile the reprobate, he may 
be successfully approached at a time like this l)y good men, 
and they may indulge even in reproof without incurring 
censure or violating decorum. The thief on the cross was 
forgiven. A word dropped in season — a prayer elicited 
from the reprobate's heart — may perchance save a perish- 
ing soul. The heart is generally softened by the rackings 
and pains of disease, and a lodgment may then be made 
wliich may cause that garrison of many devils to see the 
folly of mortal combat with its Creator, and cause an un- 
conditional surrender. Even though repentance may be 
extorted by fear, there is cause for rejoicing. But when 
a pious minister approaches the bed of a believer, and 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE's DEATH. 415 

witnesses his resignation and submission, and willingness 
to rely implicitly upon divine mercy, through the media- 
tion of a crucified Redeemer, there is a calm pleasure to 
the sick, and a delight to those around him which no 
Christian can fail to appreciate. 

We have spoken of Chancellor George Wythe in a 
previous chapter, and as we are going to his bedside, we 
cannot refrain from making some reference to his esti- 
mable character. In the times that tried men's souls 
there was no occasion for this; for he was one of the 
magnates who occupied such a large space in the public 
eye that ell men knew his position and services. 

As a chancellor, in his court-room, in the basement of 
the Capitol, which was rarely occupied by more than a 
few members of the bar and a few suitors, without insig- 
nia of office and only his innate dignity to support him, 
men might transact their business without reflecting upon 
the inestimable value of a judge uncontaminated by pre- 
judice or partiality, or meaner selfishness, upon whose 
pure decision their property depended. They knew he 
held the even scales of justice well balanced in his hands, 
and that nothing but undoubted equity and law could 
turn those scales to the right or the left ; still, no outward 
demonstration of more than ordinary respect was ever 
exhibited. In these days, when it is not uncommon to 
hear notable contrasts drawn between some unworthy 
judges, who have soiled the judicial ermine, and brought 
their decisions and illegal acts into disrepute and them- 
selves into contempt, it may not be considered useless to 
revive some incidents in the life and character of such a 
man as George Wythe, and hold him up as an exemplar 
of a patriot, jurist, and pure Yirginian. It is a pleasure 
to us to dwell for a moment upon the personal appear- 
ance of this remarkable man. 

He was one of those that a child could approach with- 



416 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

out hesitation or shrinking, — would talk to, in its inno- 
cent prattle, without constraint or fear, — would lean upon, 
and, looking in his face, return a sympathetic smile. He 
was one of those before whom a snrlj dog would. unbend, 
and wag his tail with manifest pleasure, though never 
seen before. Animals and children are guided in their 
affections or dislikes by the countenance and the manner. 

His stature was of the middle size. He was well- 
formed and proportioned; and the features of his face 
manly, comely, and engaging. In his walk, he carried 
his hands behind him, holding the one in the other, which 
added to his thoughtful appearance. In his latter days 
he was very bald. The hair that remained was uncut, 
and worn behind, curled up in a continuous roll. His 
head was very round, with a high forehead ; well-arched 
eyebrows; prominent blue eyes, showing softness and in- 
telligence combined; a large aquiline nose; rather small, 
but well-delined mouth; and thin whiskers, not lower 
than his ears. There were sharp indentations from the 
side of the nose down on his cheek, terminating about an 
inch from the corner of the mouth ; and his chin was 
well-rounded and distinct. His face was kept smoothly 
shaven; his cheeks, considerably furrowed from the loss 
of teeth ; and the crow's feet very perceptible in the cor- 
ners of the eyes. His countenance was exceedingly 
benevolent and cheerful. 

His dress was a single-breasted black broadcloth coat, 
with a stitf collar turned over slightly at the top, cut in 
front Quaker fashion ; a long vest, with large pocket- 
flaps and straight collar, buttoned high on the breast, 
showing the ends of the white cravat that filled up the 
bosom. He wore shorts; silver knee and shoe buckles; 
was particularly neat in his appearance, and had a ruddy, 
healthy hue. He had a regular habit of bathing, winter 
and summer, at sunrise. He would put on his morning 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE's DEATH. 417 

wrapper, go down wdth his bucket to the well in the yard, 
which was sixty feet deep and the water very cold, and 
draw for himself what was necessary. He would then 
indulge in a potent shower-bath, which he considered the 
most inspiring luxury. With nerves all braced, he would 
pick up the morning Enquirer^ established about two 
years before, and seating himself in his arm-chair, would 
ring a little silver bell for his frugal breakfast. This was 
brought in immediately by his servant woman, Lydia 
Broadnax, who understood his M^ants and his ways. She 
was a servant of the olden time, respected and trusted by 
her master, and devotedly attached to him and his — one 
of those whom he had liberated, but who lived with him 
from affection. 

He was born in the county of Elizabeth City, on the 
shores of the Chesapeake, in 1726, and inherited an estate 
ample for ease and independence. Though his education 
was defective in his youth, yet, by close application, in 
after life he had become an accomplished Latin and 
Greek scholar, and possessed a fair knowledge of the 
modern languages. In writing to friends who were versed 
in those languages, even ih ordinary letters or notes, he 
often mingled sentences, first in one and then in the other 
language, which made his correspondence very entertain- 
ing. After he reached his four score years he was study- 
ing Hebrew, and with the aid of a Kabbin by the name 
of Seixas, a learned Jew, who then lived in Richmond, 
had made sufhcient progress to enable him to read the 
Bible with much ease in the original. He said he pre- 
ferred to read it for himself, untranmielled Ijy commen- 
tators or disputants over its translation. When a diffi- 
culty arose in his mind he investigated the matter by the 
original Hebrew, examined it in connection with the 
Greek, weighed the evidence for and against, as he would 
in a difficult case before him in court, and draw his own 



418 THE TWO PARSONS. 

conclusions, his sole object being to arrive at the truth. 
He was a profound civil lawyer, a rhetorician, gramma- 
rian, and logician, and possessed a fair knowledge of 
mathematics, as well as of natural and moral philosophy. 
He lived in the practice of the most rigid and inflexible 
virtue, and w^as a pattern of temperance and frugality. 

He was a widower ; had been twice married ; first to 
a daughter of John Lewis, with whom lie studied law ; 
secondly, to Miss Taliaferro, residing in the neighborhood 
of Williamsburg. He had only one child, which died in 
infancy. Though liis name was not perpetuated by his 
own issue, yet all over Virginia, from the love and esteem 
borne him, there are many George Wythes, and the name 
will be handed down through untold generations. As a 
lawyer he possessed one distinguishing trait, he invariably 
refused business when he believed the justice of the case 
was against his client. As a judge he was remarkable 
for the most scrupulous impartiality, rigid justice, unre- 
mitting assiduity, and pure disinterestedness. The offices 
he filled, and the public duties he performed, are recorded 
in all the histories and chronicles of the great men of 
Virginia. We are dealing wifh his private character. 

His benevolent disposition was apparent to all. Un- 
assuming modesty, simplicity of manner, and great equa- 
nimity of temper were distinguishing characteristics 
throughout his life. He emancipated his slaves, but did 
not cast them on the world friendless and needy. He 
gave them sufficient sums to free them from want, and 
his own example had taught them to cultivate industri- 
ous habits. He taught one of his negro boys Latin and 
Greek, and the rudiments of science. This boy, however, 
died before his benefactor. He bequeathed a large portion 
of his property, in trust, to support his three freed negroes, 
a woman, a man, and a boy, during their lives. He had 
written his will, leaving the greater portion of his pro- 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE's DEATH. 419 

perty to George Wythe Sweeny, the grandson of his sister, 
his own grand nephew ; but circumstances occurring not 
long before and immediately preceding his death induced 
him to revoke this portion of his will, and leave the bulk 
of his estate to others. 

This will being a remarkable document in itself, and 
exhibiting some traits of the Chancellor's character, which 
we have endeavored to portray, is given here in full. 

His Will. 
" Contemplating that event which one in the second 
year of his sixteenth lustrum may suppose to be fast ap- 
proaching at this time, the twentieth day of April, in the 
third year of the nineteenth centurie since the Christian 
epoch, wlien such is my health of bodie that vivere aiaeiUy 
and yet, such my disposition of mind, that, convinced of 
this truth, what supreme wisdom destinateth is best, 
oheam. lihetis, I, George Wythe, of the city of Ilichu:ond, 
declare what is hereinafter written to be my testament, 
probably the last; appointing by friendly neighbour, 
William Duval, executor, and desiring him to accept fifty 
pounds for his trouble in performing that office over a 
commission upon his disbursements and receipts inclusive. 
I devise to him the houses and ground which I bought of 
William Nelson, and my stock in the funds, in trust, with 
the rents of one and interest of the other, to support 
my freed woman, Lydia Brodnax, and freed man, Ben- 
jamin, and freed boy, Michael Brown, during the lives of 
the two former, and after their deaths, in trust to the use 
of the said Michael Brown ; and all the other estate to 
which I am, and shall at the time of my death be, entitled 
I devise to George Wythe Sweeny, the grandson of my 
sister. 

" George | \- j Wythe." 



"420 THE TWO PARSONS. 

Three years afterwards he appended to the foregoing 
the following codicil. 

" I, who have liereunder written my name, this nine- 
teenth day of January, in the sixth year of the before 
mentioned centnrie, revoke so much of the preceding 
devise to George Wythe Sweeney, as is inconsistent with 
what followeth. The residuary estate devised to him is 
hereby charged Math debts and demands. I give my 
books and small philosophical apparatus to Tliomas Jef- 
ferson, President of the United States of America, — a 
legacie, considered abstractlie, perhaps not deserving a 
place in his museum, but estimated by my good will to 
him, the most valuable to him of anything which I have 
power to bestow. My stock in the funds before men- 
tioned hath been changed into stock in the bank of Vir- 
ginia. I devise the latter to the same uses, except as to 
Ben, who is dead, as those to which the former was de- 
voted. To the said Thomas Jeiferson's patronage I re- 
commend the freed boy, Michael Brown, in my testament 
named, for whose maintenance, education or other bene- 
fit, as the said Thomas Jefferson shall direct, I will the 
■said bank stock, or the value thereof, if it be changed 
again, to be disponed. And now, good Lord, most merci- 
ful, let penitence — 

"Sincere, to me restore lost innocence; 
In wrath my grievous sins remember not; 
My secret faults out of thy record blot ; 
That after death's sleep, when I shall awake. 
Of pure beatitude I may partake. 

" George Wythe, (£eal^)" 

" I will that Michael Brown have no more than one-half 
my bank stock, and George Wythe Sweeney have the 
-other immediatelie. 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE S DEATH. 421 

"I give to my friend, Tliomas Jefferson, mj silver cups 
and gold-head ed cane, and to my friend, William Dnval, 
my silver ladle and table and teaspoons. 

" If Michael die before his fall age, I give what is de- 
vised to him to George Wythe Sweeney. I give to Lydia 
Broadnax my fuel. This is to be part of my will, as if it 
were written of the parchment, inclosed with my name in 
two places. 

" G. Wythe, (seal?)" 

24^A February, 1806. 

Subsequent to the writing of the last codicil, dated the 
24th of February, 180G, the Chancellor had ascertained 
from various sources that his nephew had become exceed- 
ingly dissipated — was habitually keeping company with 
disreputable associates and frequenting gambling houses. 
From time to time, as opportunity occurred, — which was 
not often, because he evidently avoided his uncle's soci- 
ety, — he had told him that such accounts had reached his 
ears, and in gentle reproof had warned him that such 
conduct could not be tolerated. He went so far as to 
say that he had made provision for him in his will, but 
unless there was some change in his conduct he should 
certainly revoke his bequest. His mind was finally made 
up to this by learning from one of tlie bank oflicers that 
Sweeney was suspected of having forged the Chancellor's 
name to two checks on the Bank of Yiro-inia, one for 
fifty and another for one hundred dollars. There was a 
probability that he would be indicted before the grand 
jury for the forgeries, and the old gentleman came to the 
conclusion that he must do this thing which hung so heav- 
ily over him. He put it off, however, from day to day. 

Such was the condition of affairs when Parson Buch- 
anan came one morning to Parson Blair's house, and 
knocked excitedly at the door. The Parson answered 



422 THE TWO PARSONS. 

the knock in person, and seeing his friend, said in a 
cheerful tone, "What are you kicking up this rumpus 
about ? " 

" I have just heard that Chancellor Wythe is very ill," 
answered he, "and it is thought he has been poisoned* 
I want you to accompany me to his house." 

"Poisoned!" said the good man. "I saw him but a 
day or two ago, and he was uncommonly well and cheer- 
ful. Who could have perpetrated such a deed ? " 

" I hear it was his own nephew, George Wythe Swee- 
ney. Dr. Foushee called at my ofhce and asked me to go 
to the old gentleman, and I want you to go also. The 
Doctor has been to see him twice already, — the last time 
in consultation with Dr. McCaw, — and the}'' concur in 
the opinion that he is extremely ill. He said, moreover, 
that the Chancellor's old cook, Lydia, was also sick, and 
that the boy Michael, who lived with them, was affected 
in the same manner. Lydia's story, to use her own lan- 
guage, was that 'Mass George Sweeney came here yes- 
terday, as he sometimes does when old master is at court, 
and went into his room, and finding his keys in the door 
of his private desk, he opened it, and when she went in, 
she found him reading a paper that her old master had 
told her was his will. It was tied with a blue ribbon. 
Mass George said his uncle had sent liim to read that 
paper, and tell him what he thought of it. Then^he went 
away, and, after tlie Chancellor had gone to bed, came 
back again late at night, and went to the room he always 
stays in when he sleeps here. In the morning, when 
breakfast was nearly read}^, he came into the kitchen, 
and said, ' Aunt Lydy, I want you to give me a cup of 
coffee and some bread, because I haven't time to stay to 
breakfast.' She said, ' Mars George, breakfast is neaidy 
ready ; I have only got to poach a few eggs, and make 
some toast for old master ; so you had better stay and eat 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE's DEATH. 423 

with him.' ' Ko,' he said, " I'll just take a cup of hot 
coffee now, and you can toast me a slice of bread.' 

" He went to the fire, and took the coffee-pot to the 
table, while I was toasting the bread. He poured out a 
cupful for himself and then set the pot down. I saw him 
throw a little wliite paper in the tire. He then drank the 
coffee he had poured out for himself, and ate the toast 
with some fresh butter. He told me good-bye and went 
about his business. I didn't think there was anything 
wrong then. 

" In a little while I heard old master's bell. He always 
rings it when he is ready for his breakfast; so I carried 
it up to him. He poured out a cup of coffee for himself, 
took his toast and eggs, and ate and drank while he was 
reading the newspaper. 

" ' Lyddy,' said he, ' did I leave my keys in my desk 
yesterday, for I found them there last night ? ' 

" I suppose so, master, for I saw Mars George at the 
desk reading that paper yo\i gave me to put there, and 
which you said was your will. He said you had sent 
him to read it, and to tell you what he thought of it. 

" Master said, ' I fear I am getting old, Lyddy, for I 
am becoming more and more forgetful every day. Take 
these things away, and give Michael his breakfast, and 
get your own, Lydd3\' 

" I gave Michael as much coffee as he wanted, and then 
I drank a cup myself. After that, with the hot water in 
the kettle I washed the plates, emptied the coffee-grounds 
out and scrubbed the coffee-pot bright, and by that time 
I became so sick I could hardly see, and had a violent 
cramp. Michael was sick, too ; and old master was as 
sick as he could be. He told me to send for the doctor. 
All these things makes me think Mars George must have 
put something in the coffee-pot. I didn't see him, ])ut it 
looks monstrous strange." 



424: THE TWO PARSONS. 

"The doctor said, after hearing this statement, which 
the woman had also made to her master, they were satis- 
fied poison had been placed m the coffee by the nephew. 

" The doctor further said the Chancellor had told him 
he ate nothing but two eggs and some toast, and drank a 
cup of coffee ; that in a very short time he had been taken 
with severe pains, followed by nausea. He was complain- 
ing of great thirst, dryness of the throat and mouth, 
restlessness, and anxiety. Moreover, he had found the 
woman, Liddy, not so ill, but seriously sick ; and the boy, 
Michael, worse than either — cold in his extremities and 
having convulsions. These symptoms proved to his satis- 
■ faction that arsenic had been put in the coffee; and from 
the rapidity of its effect he was satisfied a large quantity 
had been administered. 

" From the urgency of the cases the doctor had thought 
it advisable to have assistant medical aid, and had called 
in Dr. McCaw; but he thought the boy, Michael, would 
die, and did not think the Chancellor was by any means 
safe." 

With this information, our two friends, with melan- 
choly hearts, wended their way to the Chancellor's house, 
where they found Mr. Munford. The old gentleman was 
suffering intense agony, complaining of excessive heat, 
accompanied by occasional spasms. In the intervals of 
pain he was calm and composed, but said he felt his end 
was approaching. 

He extended his hands to the good Parsons, and gave 
to each a kind pressure of recognition; and when asked 
how he felt, said that a man of his age could not endure 
such intense suffering and live long; that the remedies 
his physicians had administered had as yet afforded him 
no permanent relief. He said he had no fear of death, 
but regretted the manner in which it had been brought 
about. It would be a stigma on his own name, and a 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE's DEATH. 425 

deep and lasting mortification to his sister, for whom he 
entertained the warmest aifection. He knew his nephew 
had been wild and dissipated, but he liad not realized his 
depravity. He had thought he had a warm heart and a 
strong attachment for himself. He had intended the 
bulk of his fortune for him, but he would be compelled 
now to revoke that intention. 

He then turned to Mr. Munford, and said, " For par- 
ticular reasons, I desire my friend, Edmund Randolph, to 
write the codicil, and must ask you to request his atten- 
dance here at his earliest convenience." Of course this 
request was immediately attended to. 

It was evident the Chancellor had not mistaken his 
condition, for there were already symptoms of great 
weakness and a manifest change in his appearance. 
Nevertheless, he smiled kindly, and turning to our Par- 
sons, again extended his hand, first to one and then to 
the other. He said no visit could have gratified him 
more. " It was a pleasure to have two such men smooth- 
ing his pillow and giving him words of comfort at such a 
time." 

" There is a better friend than either of us," said Par- 
son Buchanan ; " He has gone before to prepare mansions 
for us in a better home than this." 

" He is the staff that will not break, nor pierce the 
hand that leans upon it," said Parson Blair. 

" Ah, yes !" said the Chancellor. " This is my conso- 
lation." He raised his eyes to heaven, and his lips moved 
in an audible petition to the Almighty. 

Then Parson Buchanan said, " ' Where two or three are 
gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of 
them.' And with your permission, my old friend, we 
will unite with you in prayer." And kneeling, all heart- 
ily joined in the prayer for the sick and dying. When 
he had finished, the Chancellor again took his hand and 
27 



426 THE TWO PARSONS, 

pressed it most feelingly. He then extended it to Par- 
son Blair, and said, " We will meet hereafter, around the 
throne of grace, where pain and sorrow shall be felt no 
more." 

Dr. Foushee came to the door. The Chancellor beck- 
oned to him, and said, almost in a whisper, " How are 
Lyddy and Michael ?" 

" Lyddy," said the doctor, " feels more comfortable. 
But Michael is dead. The effect of the poison has been 
rapid indeed." 

" I shall not be far behind," the Chancellor said. He 
uttered a groan, and tossed to and fro in visible agony. 

As our Parsons prepared to leave him, seeing he was 
too ill for them to 1)0 of any service, they said, " We 
hope to see you again. God be with you." 

" Not in this world," said he, and they passed out 
sorrowing. 

As they left. Dr. McCaw entered. The two doctors 
went to the window. A few words only were inter- 
changed. They administered some antidote, and then 
waited for the paroxysm to pass off. 

An hour or two elapsed, during which the Chancellor 
dozed. Then Mr. Edmund Randolph, one of the best 
lawyers of that day, and the Chancellor's steadfast friend, 
gently came into the room, and finding him awake, re- 
ceived full instructions from the Chancellor as to the 
codicil he desired him to write. 

It would be useless for us to enter into the minutiae of 
the preparation of this codicil. But we give it in full after 
its execution to show what were the testator's wishes, and 
how they were carried into effect. "We add what he said 
to Mr. Munford and Mr. Randolph after its execution : 

" It is not my desire that this unfortunate nephew of 
mine shall be prosecuted or punished, further than this 
codicil will punish him, for the offences with which he 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE's DEATH. 427 

stands charged. I dread snch a stigma being cast upon 
my name or mj sister's. I do not believ^e he can be con- 
victed in the teeth of our statute law, which prohibits 
negro testimony from being received against a white man 
under trial. And without such testimony he will be ac- 
quitted. For myself, I shall die leaving him my forgive- 
ness." 

This will explain the reason why Edmund Randolph 
appeared as counsel for the defence, when Sweeney was 
arrested and tried. 

The codicil is as follows: 
" In the name of God. Amen. 

"I, George Wythe, of the city of Richmond, having 
heretofore made my last will, on the twentieth of April, 
in the third year of the nineteenth century since the 
Christian epoch, and a codicil thereto on the nineteenth 
of January, in the sixth year of the aforesaid century, 
and another codicil on the ^■^th February^ 1806, do 
ordain and constitute the followinoj to be a third codicil 
to my will ; hereby revolving the said will and codicils in 
all the devises and legacies in them, or either of them 
contained, relating to, or in any manner concerning 
George Wythe Sweeney, the grandson of my sister; but 
I confirm the said will and codicils in all other parts, 
except as to the devise and bequest to Michael Brown, in 
the said will mentioned, who I am told died this morning, 
and therefore they are void. And I do hereby devise and 
bequeath all the estate which I have devised or be- 
queathed to the said George Wythe Sweeney, or for his 
use, in the said will and codicils, and all the interest and 
estate which I have therein devised or bequeathed in trust 
for or to the use of the said Michael Brown, to the 
brothers and sisters of the said George Wythe Sweeney 
the ^r(2??.(/children of my said sister, to be equally divided 
among them, share and share alike. In testimony whereof 



428 THE TWO PARSONS. 

I have hereunto subscribed mj name and affixed my sealy 
this first day of June, in the year 1806. 

"G. Wythe, (£eal:> 

" Signed, sealed, published and declared by tlie said 
George Wythe, the testator, as and for ]iis last will and 
testament in onr presence; and at his desire we have 
hereunto subscribed our names as witnesses, in his pre- 
sence and in the presence of each other." 

(The interlineations of the words, " and another codicil 
on the 24:th of February, 1806," and of the words " will 
and codicils" and "grand" being first made, and the 
whole being distinctly read to the testator before the ex- 
ecution of this codicil.) 

"Edm. Randolph. 

" Wm. Pkice. 

" Samuel Gkeenhow. 

" Saml. McCeaw." 

The foregoing will and codicil are written upon parch- 
ment Ijy the testator in the handwriting of Edmund 
Randolph. 

The original envelope which enclosed the will and 
codicils is evidently written by the testator himself: 

" To William Duval. 
To be opened when G. Wythe shall cease to breathe, un- 
less by him required before that event." 

The Chancellor lingered from day to day, far beyond 
the expectation of his physicians and friends. Michael 
had been buried, and Lydia had recovered. Our Parsons 
had regularly repeated theii* visits, and aided somewhat 
in reviving his spirits, and keeping alive the flickering 
flame of life slowly sinking in its socket. 

They called for the last time on the morning of the 
8th of June, hoping against hope to find him better; but 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE's DEATH. 429 

he was too far gone to recognize them, and in a short 
time he was numbered with the dead. 

He died in the eighty-first year of his age, and was 
buried on Monday, the 9th of June, 1806, in the burial- 
ground attached to St. John's Church, in the city of 
Richmond. 

There is no monument or other mark to designate the 
spot where his remains repose ; but it is believed he was 
buried on the west side of the church, near the wall of 
that building. 

There were at that period only two newspapers pub- 
lished in the city, the Virginia Argus and the Richmond 
Enquirer^ and they were only published semi-weekly. 
They did not appear until the 10th of June. Each of 
them published the action of the executive council, 
which, though it was Sunday, met on that day, and en- 
tered the following order: 

"Council Chamber, June 8, 1806. 

^^Preparatory to the interment of George Wythe, late 
Judge of the High Court of Chancery for the Richmond 
District, a funeral oration will be delivered at the Capi- 
tol, in the Hall of the House of Delegates, to begin pre- 
cisely at 4: o'clock P. M. on to-morrow ; after which the 
procession will commence in the following order : The 
Clergymen and Orator of the Day. — Coffin, with the 
word 'Corpse' on the lid. — Physicians. — The Executor 
and Relations of the Deceased. — The Judges. — Members 
of the Bar. — Officers of the High Court of Chancery. — 
The Governor and Council. — Other officers of Govern- 
ment. — The Mayor, Aldermen and Common Council of 
the City of Richmond. — Citizens." 

The Enquirer adds: "jSTeed it be said that the crowd 
which assembled in the Capitol was uncommonly nume- 
rous and respectable? After the delivery of a funeral 
oration by Mr. William Munford, a member of the Exe- 



430 THE TWO PARSONS. 

cutive Council, the procession set out towards the church. 
It is no disparagement to the virtues of the living to as- 
sert that there is not, perhaps, another man in Virginia 
whom the same solemn procession would have attended 
to the grave. Let the solemn and lengthened procession 
which, attended him to his grave declare the loss which 
we have sustained." 

A doubt has been expressed whether the Chancellor 
was buried in the cemetery attached to St. John's Epis- 
copal Church in Richmond. After reading these notes 
on the procession no doubt exists in our mind. The 
words, ^''Preparatory to the interment,^'' in the order of 
council, and "Me procession set out towards the church,^'' 
and " attended to his grave,''"' in the narrative in the En- 
quirer, are conclusive. 

Thus ended the career of no common man. Mr. Jef- 
ferson says : " His virtue was of the purest kind ; his in- 
tegrity inflexible and his justice exact ; of warm patriot- 
ism, and devoted as he was to liberty and the natural and 
equal rights of man, he might truly be called the Cato 
of his country, without the avarice of the Roman ; for a 
more disinterested person never lived. Temperance and 
regularity in all his habits gave him general good health, 
and his unaffected modesty and suavity of manners en- 
deared him to every one. He was of easy elocution ; his 
language chaste ; methodical in the arrangement of his 
matter, learned and logical in the use of it, and of great 
urbanity in debate ; not quick of apprehension, but with 
a little time profound in penetration and sound in con- 
clusion." 

After the first shock had subsided to which the public 
mind was subjected by the death and burial of such a 
truly great man, the attention of the law-abiding comnm- 
nity was attracted to him who had been guilty of such an 
atrocious crime. We find it chronicled in the papers of 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE's DEATH. 431 

the day, that on the 23d of June, 1806, George Wythe 
Sweeney was called before the examining court of this 
city on the charge of poisoning his uncle, the venerable 
George Wythe, and a servant boy. It is stated that he 
was unanimously remanded to jail for further trial before 
the district court, to be held in the following September* 

The proceedings before that court are subsequently re- 
ferred to, as follows: 

"The District Court met in this city on Monday, the 
1st of September, 1806. Present : Judges Prentis and 
Tyler. On Tuesday came up the celebrated trial of 
George Wythe Sweeney on the charge of administering 
arsenic to his great uncle, the venerable George Wythe. 

" Philip N. Nicholas (Attorney-General) for the prose- 
cution, and William Wirt and Edmund Pandolph counsel 
for defendant. After an able and eloquent discussion, 
the jury retired, and in a short time brought in the ver- 
dict of not guilty. 

"A similar indictment against him for poisoning Mi- 
chael, a mulatto boy, who lived with Mr. Wythe, was 
quashed without a trial. 

" Some of the strongest testimony which had been pre- 
sented before the called court and the grand jury M^as 
excluded from the petit jury, because it was gleaned 
principally from the evidence of negroes, which, by the 
statute law of the State, could not be used against a 
white man. 

" On a subsequent day of the same court the prisoner 
was brought up for trial on two indictments found against 
him for counterfeiting his uncle's name to checks drawn 
upon the Bank of Virginia. 

" The indictment consisted of two counts. The first 
charged that the prisoner presented, on the 2Tth of May, 
1806, a check on the Bank of Virginia for the sum of 
one hundred dollars, which was accompanied l)y a forged 



432 THE TWO PARSONS. 

letter, directing the cashier of the bank to pay the said 
checlv, the letter and cheek purporting to have been 
written by George Wythe. The second count charged 
that the money was obtained b}'^ a false, feigned, and 
counterfeit token to the similitude and likeness of a true 
check or order of George Wythe. 

'' Upon these counts the prisoner was found guilty by 
the jury; whereupon he moved to arrest the judgment, 
because the offence is not within the statute under which 
the indictment was laid, ' inasmuch as the statute which 
was passed on the 18th of November, 1789, M'^as intended 
to punish a pre-existing evil, which is represented as hav- 
ing become common, and which is minutely described in 
the preamble to the statute, to wit: the falsely and de- 
ceitfully contriving, devising and imagining privy tokens 
and counterfeit letters in other men's names, imto divers 
persoyis, their imrlicalar friends and acquaintances^ 
whereas banks were not introduced into this Common- 
wealth until many years after the said 18th ]!^ovember, 
1789, and therefore could not have been within the con- 
templation, any more than within the language, of the 
statute. 

" ' The phraseology of the statute precludes the possi- 
bility of its application to banks : the terms " divers per- 
sons, tlieir particular friends and acquaintances," can 
relate only to private individuals, not to a body corporate 
or ideal boly. The Bank of Virginia is no more a per- 
son than the Commonwealth of Virginia, much less is it 
the particular friend and acquaintance of any one. 

"'The statute requires that the person who shall be 
punished under it shall have gotten into his possession 
the money or goods of another; whereas the defendant 
is charged with having gotten possession of a note of the 
Bank of A^irginia, which is neither the money or goods 
of the said G. W., because, having been delivered under 



CHANCELLOR WYTHE's DEATH. 433 

a check not drawn by him, the bank hath no right to 
charge it to his account ; neither is it the money or goods 
of the bank, but simply the promissory note of the bank 
for the future payment of money; and as to all legal 
purposes merely on a footing with the promissory note 
of an individual.' 

" The question arising from these reasons in arrest was 
adjourned to the general court. 

'-'■ Novemher 17, 1806. — The Court, consisting of Judges 
Tyler, White, Carrington, Stuart, Brooke, and Holmes, 
decided, that 'judgment on the verdict in the record men- 
tioned ought to be arrested.' 

"There was another indictment against the defendant, 
founded on the said act of Assembly, for fraudulently 
obtaining from the bank, on the 11th of April, 1806, by 
means of a counterfeit letter, or privy token, the sum of 
fifty dollars. The indictment consisted of two counts, 
and was exactly like the indictment in the first case above 
mentioned, except that in this case the defendant was 
charged with having obtained, by the means before men- 
tioned, 'fifty dollars in money current in the said Com- 
monwealth of Virginia.' 

"The defendant was found guilty on this indictment 
also, and the same reasons were assigned in arrest of 
judgment as in the other case. It was also adjourned. 

"The general court, composed of the same judges as 
in the last case, and on the same day, decided, ' That the 
errors aforesaid are not good and sufiicient in law, and 
that judgment on the verdict in the record in the said case 
mentioned ought to be rendered by the district court.' " 

What the district court's action upon this ruling was, 
we have not been able to discover; but we are confident 
that no punishment was ever inflicted on the prisoner. 

The technicalities and defects of the law are so power- 
ful in some cases as to defeat the ends of justice. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE RICHMOND ACADEMY, AND THE BUJRNING OF THE 

THEATRE. 

THERE was in Richmond in by-gone days a large 
brick building at the corner of Eighth and Carj 
streets, having two tenements, being the only house on 
that part of the square, fronting on Gary street. This 
house was then used as a preparatory academy for both 
males and females who w^ere studying the higher branches 
of education The apartments were entirely separated 
from each other, though under the same management. 
The entrance for the young men was on Gary street, that 
for the young ladies directly on Eighth street. 

The Academy was under the immediate superinten- 
dence of M. Louis Hue Girardin and Mr. D. Doyle, who 
were the joint principals, with several assistants. Both 
of these gentlemen were men of learning, enjoying the 
coniidence of the citizens of Richmond, patronized by 
many families of wealth in the country, and much es- 
teemed for their moral as well as social qualities. 

The academy was styled by the proprietors the " Hal- 
lenian Academy." It had been founded by Haller, a 
Swiss adventurer, who was its first principal ; and Girardin 
succeeded him. He had been the worthy and learned 
professor of modern languages, history and geography in 
William and Mary Gollege. 

We find in the continuation of the History of Virginia, 
first edited by Burke, and subsequently by Mr. Girardin,. 
a dedication of the fourth volume to Thomas Jeiferson. 



THE RICHMOND ACADEMY. 435 

This Academy, with the private schools heretofore 
mentioned, under the management of Parson Blair, were 
then the seminaries from whose foundations were drawn 
much of the talent and refinement of our city. Mr. 
Girardin and our two Parsons were thus drawn together 
by similarity of tastes and the love of literature. They 
were exalted above the envying and bickerings which mar 
the society of others when competition in their employ- 
ments interferes with worldly aggrandizement. 

We may be excused for mentioning here that this 
building is still standing at the northeast corner of Eighth 
and Gary streets, one of the landmarks of the city. Its 
historic name has departed, but it is yet known as the 
old Academy. Within a few years past it has undergone 
renovation, by having the old front removed and a new 
one substituted, thus bringing the building to the line of 
the street. 

One of the few remnants of antiquity about it still 
exists in the wonderfully dilapidated pigeon-boxes, rising 
tier above tier on the old kitchen in the j^ard. These 
boxes have been tenanted bv a lono- line of generations 
of various colored pigeons, whose motions and actions 
have gladdened the heart of many a boy with crossbow 
and arrow, or with sling and stone. With cautious step 
and eager gaze they would venture upon a shot, and then 
scamper off affrighted, with accumulated speed, when they 
found they had damaged the windows more than the 
pigeons. Then some beldam, with excited voice and 
shaking finger, would threaten to call imaginary police, 
who possessed only an imaginary existence. When these 
pigeon-boxes shall be no more, the glory of the "Hal- 
lenian Academy" will have faded into oblivion. 

We recall many of these incidents for the sake of the 
olden time. This Academy was tlien supported by the 
elite of the eastern counties of the State, from whence 



436 THD TWO PARSONS. 

came many promising scions of noble sires, and much of 
the beauty for which Kichmond has long been distin- 
guished. Besides, Mr. Girardin w^as an author of no 
mean eminence in the literary w^orld, having been engaged 
in translating various pla3^s, among them the French play, 
by Diderot, called " The Father, or Family Feuds." A 
notice of this play had been extensively published, with 
a promise that it was to be brought out on the boards of 
the Richmond theatre, for the first time, the day after 
Christmas. 

The theatre was then supplied with a corps of excellent 
performers ; some of high reputation as comic actors, well 
known for their mirth-inspiring talents, besides being 
much respected for their remarkable personal and moral 
qualities. Among these were Mrs. W. Green, Mr. Wil- 
liam Twaits and the Placides, who were most con- 
spicuous. The play was for the especial benefit of Mr. 
Alexander Placide, the elder, who was a great favorite. 

The building known as " the Theatre," was located on. 
Broad, at that time called "H" street, and was on the 
site where the Monumental Church now stands. The 
only house of any note in the immediate neighborhood 
was the old Baptist church, afterwards used by the colored 
Baptists, now demolished, having been replaced by the new 
church for the same denomination of Christian worship- 
pers. The theatre w^as a brick building, with tlie gable 
€nd towards the street, that being in truth the front, or 
the principal entrance door. Tliere was a bull's-eye win- 
dow in the roof, facing the street, and several windows in 
the story below it. There was but one entrance to the 
boxes and pit, and that so narrow, that two persons could 
scarcely pass at the same time. From the outer door 
there was a gloomy passage, between two naked brick 
walls, leading to a narrow wdnding flight of steps, which 
terminated in as narrow a lobby. The boxes, as usual, were 



BURNING OF THE RICHMOND THEATRE. 437 

around tlie sides of the bouse, and were supported by 
wooden pillars and pannels painted and papered ; and tb& 
lower boxes were finished with a canvas ceiling, instead 
of plastering, concealing the joists and flooring above. 
The winding stairway to the second tier was weakly sup- 
ported, without the bracing necessary for heavy or sudden 
weights. There was a dome over the pit. The roof had 
never been finished with ceiling or plastering; but the 
rough beams and joists, as well as the dome, were covered 
with canvas, painted to correspond with the finish of the 
ceiling to the boxes. Every part of the house had been 
made merely for show, and in the most economical way. 

The building was lighted by oil lamps; for gas was 
not known in those days in Richmond. The stage was 
constructed with pine boards, and the canvas used for 
scenery was filled in every pore with oil and paint. A 
more inflammable structure can scarcely be imagined. 

We have located the spot, and described the construc- 
tion of the house. The play-bill issued for that night we 
reproduce. We have stated some of the attractions w^hich 
gathered as large an audience into the building as its 
capacity could possibly contain. 

"Richmond Theatre — Mr. Placide's Benefit. 

On Thursday evening, December 26, 1811, will be pre- 
sented an entire new play, translated from the French of 
Diderot, by a gentleman of this city (Monsieur Girardin), 
called 'The Father, or Family Feuds.' 

" At the end of the play, a comic song by Mr. West ; a 
dance by Miss Placide; a song by Miss Thomas; a horn- 
pipe by Miss Placide ; to which will be added, for the 
first time here, the favorite new pantomime of ' Raymond 
and Agnes ; or. The Bleeding Kun.' " 

The play had drawn a crowd of distinguished visitors 
from the country, and the audience was composed of- 



438 THE TWO PARSONS. 

these and the best classes iti the city. There were up- 
wards of six hundred persons present; the boxes and pit 
overflowing, and the galleries thoroughly filled. The 
spectators thronged the passages, eagerly endeavoring to 
obtain a standing position. The play had just ended, 
and all were gratiliod with its successful representation. 

Mr. West had sung with great life his comic song, and 
been enthusiastically encored. When he came upon the 
stage the second time he changed the song, and gave 
with great animation — 

"Major McPherson heaved a sigh — 
Major McPherson didn't know why; 
But Major McPherson soon found out, 
It was all for Miss Lavinia Snout. 

" Says Major McPherson, ' Pve no doubt 
That I am scm-ned by Miss Lavinia Snout; 
And since on her I means to dote, 
I'll make it a point to cut my throat.' 

" So Major McPherson seized a ra — z-o-r-r-r. 
' Zounds ! ' says he , ' but I'll amaze her ! 
My fate's decreed — my hour is come.' 
So he drew the razor across his thumb. 

" ' No ! ' says he. ' To cut his throat, a brave man scorns.' 
So, instead of his throat, he cut — his — corns." 

The orchestra was in full blast, playing the hornpipe. 
Miss Placide danced with an abandon as spirited and 
sparkling as the gauze and spangled dress she wore. She 
was decidedly pretty, well-formed, and graceful in all her 
movements. She was gotten up with a taste rarely ex- 
celled, and no fairy could have tripped it lighter, or with 



439 BURNING OF THE RICHMOND THEATRE. 4i>',< 

more captivating grace. Applause greeted her at every 
extra exertion, and her excitement and life gave new ani- 
mation to tlie delighted spectators. There was nothing 
to shock a delicate sensibility, the chief attraction being 
her graceful movements. 

The pantomime had commenced. It, too, had never 
been performed in Richmond. It had rarely been per- 
formed anywhere, for it was supposed to be a covert 
attack upon the institution of nunneries and the reli- 
gion of the Roman .Catholics. The interest of the audi- 
ence had been kept up, and the house remained still 
crowded to its full capacity. 

The last scene of the first act represented the cottage 
of Baptista the Robber, which was lighted by a chandelier 
apparently hanging from the ceiling of the cottage, but 
in fact suspended by cords, which worked over pulleys in- 
serted in the collar-beam of the roof of the theatre. The 
cords did not "vjork smoothly over the pulleys, and would 
occasionally slip off, or hang on the rollers ; and then the 
chandelier could not be raised or lowered without diffi- 
culty, and when suddenly jerked would oscillate to and 
fro, so as to be brought in contact with Mie scenery. 

The scene then being exhibited was an interesting and 
exciting one. In it Baptista draws his dagger, crosses 
the stage quickly to Agnes, and, as he is about to strike 
her, Raymond starts up and arrests his arm ; they have a 
severe struggle, in which the dagger is dropped. Mar- 
guerita snatches it up, stabs Baptista, and he falls. 
Solemn music is heard. Jacques and Claude kneel and 
cross their daggers over the body of Baptista. At this 
moment the curtain falls, and the first act closes. 

It became necessary, of course, to change the scene for 
the second act. The chandelier which lighted the cottage 
must be removed. Instead of lowering it and extinguish- 
ing the light, it was raised with the light still burning. 



440 THE TWO PARSONS. 

The property man of the theatre, seeing the danger, hur- 
riedly ordered one of the carpenters, and rapidly and ex- 
citedly repeated his order three times, " Lower that lamp, 
and blow it out." The carpenter attempted to obey the 
order, but the cords slipped off the rollers ; the pulleys 
became tangled, and would not work. He then jerked 
and jostled it, which caused it to rotate and oscillate un- 
til it came in contact with the lower part of one of the 
front scenes. Thirty-five scenes were hanging at that 
moment, besides the numerous flies, or narrow borders, 
which represented the sky, roofs, etc., and of these thirty- 
four were canvas paintings, which, though not extremely 
combustible on the painted side, are on the other so well 
covered with the fibres of the hemp or cotton as to feed 
a flame like powder. 

The curtain rose. The scene was outside of the gates 
of Lindenburg Castle. There was a window in the wall. 
Raymond, Theodore and Marguerita eytered through 
the gates of the castle, while the orchestra was in full 
chorus. The gates were opened and closed by a servant. 
This servant was Mr. West. Kaymond is speaking. A 
guitar is heard within the castle. " Hark ! A paper is 
lowered from the window. Ha ! that is the window of 
Agnes' apartment." He takes up the paper and reads : 

" Don Alphonso : To-morrow I am to be immured 
for life within the walls of a convent. My heart revolts 
at the idea of taking the veil, and I have no other alter- 
native but to confide in your honor. At one o'clock at 
midnight I will leave my chamber, disguised as the Bleed- 
ing Nun, which will ensure the certainty of my escape. 
If you are sincere, meet me without the castle gates ; if 
not, leave me to my fate. Agnes." 

As Mr. West came on the stage to open the gates, he 
saw the lamp, and heard the directions to extinguish it ; 
but as soon as he opened the gates he saw sparks of fir& 



BURNING OF THE EICHMOND THEATRE. ■ 441 

falling on the back part of the stage. Then he heard a 
bustle behind the scenes, and the cry of " Fire ;" but some 
voices cried out, " There is no cause for alarm." Dis- 
covering the audience were instantly excited, he repeated 
the words, " There is no cause for alarm." Mr. Robert- 
son, who was representing Raymond, while reading Agnes' 
letter, heard the confusion, and, looking up, saw the flame 
when it was not larger than his handkercliief ; but dis- 
covering in an instant that it was rapidly increasing, he 
turned to the audience and exclaimed, ''The house is on 
fire." 

From this moment the excitement was intense, the 
consternation terrific. Larger flakes continued to fall, 
and a portion of the scenery in full blaze fell against the 
drop-curtain. The wind taking it, it leaped to the roof, 
the rafters and beams of which, as we have described, 
were hidden merely by painted canvas, which conveyed 
it with fearful rapidity to the shingles. The fire flew as 
it does in a field of broom-sedge, with a roar and clean 
sweep that licked up everything before it. 

All had to make an effort to escape from this yawning 
gulf, filled with sooty smoke of turpentine and resin, 
wliich was followed by lurid fire, intensified by the in- 
flammable compounds of paint, oil, varnish, hemp, and 
cotton. Oh ! the horror of that scene of roaring flame 
and screaming voices! First so bright as to blind the 
eyes, then obscured to total darkness by bituminous 
smoke, while the ear was pierced with the groans of 
suffocating victims ! 

Imagine more than six hundred people terrified by 
imminent peril, jamming and cramming each otlier in 
narrow and confined passages, darkened and blackened 
by a hot and dense smoke, while the flames were running 
wild over the tops of the boxes, through the corridors and 
emptied seats, while the mass was pressing in a mighty 
28 



442 THE TWO PARSONS. 

wave against a closed door, opening inwards, with no 
egress, without the power to move a hmb backwards or 
forwards ! Imagine those frail staircases, as the crowd 
rushed upon them ! See them leaping upon each other's 
shoulders, walking upon the heads of those they were 
trampling down. Hear the snapping and crushing of 
the weak supports to the stairs, precipitating the mad- 
dened human beings into the abyss below, a palpitating- 
mass piled up one on the other. Then, as the successive 
waves of terrified humanity pressed continuously to the 
same point, in a darkness deep as Erebus, stumbling they 
fell into the same pit. Imagine the second higher tier of 
steps, without support, toppling and tumbling with its 
incumbent occupants upon the devoted victims below, 
composing a mass of rotten, charred, and burning debris, 
covering up irremediably Ijeings screaming and crying- 
out, if but for a moment, for help, when no assistance 
was possible. The third tier, falling from the same 
cause, covered the rest with a midnight pall never to be 
raised. 

Then behold the roaring, leaping fire seizing upon this 
mass, and mark the gloomy stillness that ensued, followed 
by the crackling, thundering peal of the dome over the 
pit falling in one mass of blazing timbers, extinguishing 
the last remnant of life from all below. Then watch the 
grandeur of the accelerated flame, bearing on its bosom 
myriads of sparkling flakes, leaping to the clouds, and 
falling like a shower of stars from the calm vault above. 

[Notwithstanding such a situation and such horrors, 
there were still many who escaped — some so injured as 
only to prolong their sufferings, to meet death in a more 
quiet place; others, with broken limbs, to carry the evi- 
dence of the difficulties and dangers they surmounted to 
their graves; others but to mourn the loss, either of be- 
loved partners torn from their embrace by the fell de- 



BURNING OF THE RICHMOND THEATRE. 443 

stroyer, oi* of friends clearer to them than life itself. 
Those who escaped unhurt had the scenes they saw and 
heard seared in their brains so vividly that time could 
never efPace them from their memories. 

This appalling scene was described to us with the 
vividness of reality, so that we imagined we saw what we 
have attempted to describe. Our old friend, Mrs. Caro- 
line Homassel Thornton, who was an eye-witness and one 
w^ho. played a part in these fearful events, pictured them 
to us. She was one of the most intellectual, enthusiastic, 
and spiritnelle of the ladies w^ho adorned the society of 
Richmond. She was then Miss Caroline Homassel, the 
niece and adopted daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Richard, 
who, with Dr. Philip Thornton, (afterwards her husband,) 
were seated near the stage. When the alarm was given, 
and the whole audience rose en masse to make theii* es- 
cape, they, with the rest, rushed to tlie ill-fated stairs, 
only to find that all escape had been cut off in that direc- 
tion. They were then hurried to and fro, groping in 
utter darkness, when suddenly the light from a window, 
which had been loosely boarded up, gave them one ray 
of hope. The suifocating smoke rolled around and over 
them, when the Doctor, by a great effort, succeeded in 
tearing oif the boards from the closed window. Under 
this \vindow was a counter, upon which was a bucket of 
water, a handful of which was thrown in their faces, and 
the rush of air from the window rolled back the dense 
smoke and gave them strength to make one more effort. 
In a moment men and women were leaping over them, 
and through the aperture, without dread or thought of 
the consequences. There was not a moment to lose, and 
no time for thought. 

Mrs. Thornton says : "As I was standing in the window, 
but for a second, I saw a man at my side leap from the 
counter to the sill of the window, and his foot slipping, 



444 THE TWO PARSONS. 

he fell to the gToiind directly on his heiid, I saw him in 
the death straggle. I expected to fall upon him. I shud- 
dered under the belief that it was my old friend, George 
Pickett, the grandfather of Gen. Pickett, of Gettysburg 
fame, but it proved to be Mr. A. Marshall, a member of 
the leo'islature from the countv of Wythe. On the other 
side of me, but in the window above, another gentleman 
had his leg broken by the fall, a lady, in her desperation, 
clinging to him as he leaped. Her weight crushed him, 
while she escaped unhurt," 

Dr. Thornton in a moment seizing Miss Homassel by 
the wrists, let her down to the full length of her arms 
and his own, and dropped her to a gentleman below, who 
proved to be her preceptor at the Academy, Mr. D. 
Do3'le, who conveyed her to her friends, her only loss 
being one of her tiny shoes. 

Then Mr. Richard in the same manner managed to 
save his wife, who M'as caught by the crowd below. That 
being accomplished, he threw himself from the window, 
and falling heavih', broke his leg* at the thigh. Dr. 
Thornton, after helping and rescuing several others un- 
known to him, escaped unhurt from a similar leap. Dr. 
Thornton, l)y his surgical skill and kind nursing, restored 
the wounded limb of his friend, and lived to be the 
partner for many years of her whom he had thus saved. 
Their home was then and is now called Montpelier, in 
the county of Rappahannock, where, in our younger days, 
we spent many of the happiest hours of our life. 

Besides these devoted friends, there were of their party 
Mr. Joseph Gallego and his wife, and the lovely Miss 
Sally Conyers, one of the purest of her sex, reminding 
all of that sweet flower, the lily of the valley. She was 
accompanied by young James Gibbon, the son of JNIajor 
James Gibbon, of Revolutionary fanie, the hero of Stony 
Point, who was her gallant and devoted lover. 



BURNING OF THE RICHMOND THEATRE. 445 

Mr. Gallego and Mr. Richards were successful partners 
in the milling business, the former of whom had estab- 
lislied in Ili(;hmond the celebrated Gallego Mills, whose 
brand in the Spanish, European, and afterwards in the 
South American markets, was unrivalled. Mr. Gallego 
was a native of Malaga, in Andalusia, Spain, and he, 
together with Mr. John Augustus Chevallie, a native of 
Rochelle, France, had settled in Ili(;hmond, were old 
friends and boon companions, and had married sisters, 
Mary and Sally, daughters of Mrs. Mary Magee. Mr. 
Gallego, after the alarm of fire had been given, was un- 
fortunately separated from his estimable wife who was 
forced from him by the resistless rush of the crowd upon 
the stairs at the moment when they fell, she perishing in 
that mass of lifeless beings, leaving him on the platform 
above, gazing upon the numbers who were trampled down 
and deploring his loss. In despair he groped his way to 
the window which had saved his other friends, and leaped 
in safety to the ground, thenceforth "in the dark vale 
of years to walk alone." At the moment when the front 
scene was in flames and fell upon the sides of the in- 
flammable boxes the fragile and sensitive Miss Conyers, 
one of the beauties of Richmond, had from excessive 
fright fallen into a swoon. Two gentlemen, Mr. John 
Lynch, and her lover, Lieut. Gibbon, rushed to her as- 
sistance, and they were bearing her along between them 
in a state of insensibility towards the head of the stairs, 
when Gibbon said, " Lynch, leave Sally to me. I am 
strong enough to carry her; she is light and you can 
save some one else." In a twinkling, the dreadful column 
of smoke reached them. One inhalation of the bitumen 
into the lungs stopped their respiration, and thus these 
two perished. She, without pain; he, in the bloom and 
pride of youth, meeting death as he would have wished, 
with her, the devoted object of his love. Mrs. Gibbon, 



446 THE Two PARSONS. 

his mother, who had been seated in tlie same box with 
them and with Mrs. Braxton and Mr, Venable, escaped 
unscathed, wliile both of these latter were lost. 

Having referred to Monsieur Girardin and Mr. Doyle 
in the beginning of this chapter, we will state the fact 
that Mrs. Girardin and son, the wife and child of the 
professor, were among the lost. Whether Monsieur 
Girardin was present to witness the success of the play 
he had translated we are unable to say; but we are in- 
formed by Mr. Doyle that Mr. Girardin and himself were 
walking up the hill towards the theatre, not more than 
twenty or thirty yards from it, when the flame first ap- 
peared. Mr. Girardin rushed to the protection of his 
wife and child, while he hurried to the rescue of all 
within his reach. His attention was instantly attracted 
to the northwest window on the front of the theatre, 
where a number of ladies appeared whose faces he knew. 
He was just in time, as we have seen, to catch Miss 
Homassel, and he induced all the ladies who were at that 
window to jump down, and they were saved by his efforts 
in catchino; and breakina; their fall. Amons: these was 
Mrs. McRae. At the door, which had been blocked up, 
he found many blackened and apparently lifeless bodies, 
which had been trodden down and were supposed to be 
dead, but when dragged to the rcfresliing air, some of 
them revived. Among these were the bodies of Miss 
Juliana Harvie and her noble brother, Mr. Edwin J. 
Harvie, for whom their friends entertained a lingering 
hope, but time proved that their temporary rescue only 
served to prolong their sufferings, for the fij'st lived in 
terrible torture until the 27th, and the last until the 29th 
of December. 

"Oh!" says Mrs. Thornton, in her narrative, "how 
sadly I remember the looks, as we I'ushed by them, of 
Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin Botts, he the eminent lawyer of 



BURNING OF THE RICHMOND THEATRE. 447 

astonishing assiduity and attainments, and she the devoted 
and accomplished wife, as thev were standing together, 
Jie holding Jier firmly and saying, in conlident tones, 
' There is ample time for all to get out.' But those death- 
dealing flames measured time with none, and even the 
seconds flew faster when that dense fog of utter darkness 
swooped down upon them with the wrath of the destroy- 
ing angel, and ere you could say, Behold ! they were 
swallowed in the jaws of death." 

And what became of Virginia's governor, the generous 
and gifted George William Smith, who but a few days 
before had been elected by her legislature to the highest 
ofiice within their gift ? He left his seat, in a box near 
the stage, surrounded by a crowd of admiring friends. 
Together tliey were swept onward amid the despairing 
throng. The wail of woe that rose above the roar of the 
tempest of tire, with those agonizing screams of frantic 
mothers and terrified maidens that went forth with their 
expiring breath, was the sad requiem to the wreath of 
fame that for a moment encompassed the Governor's 
brow. 

On the morning after the conflagration, when a mere 
boy, we were attracted to the spot by the statements we 
heard from those who were witnesses of this mighty 
tragedy. We saw a few blackened walls remaining, 
cracked and crumbling by the tremendous heat. We saw 
smoking, smouldering ruins, and men with rakes, shovels 
and spades upturning and removing from the immense 
pile of ashes, where the ill-fated staircases fell, the charred 
remains of the awful dead. Our eyes, unaccustomed to 
sights like this, carried the sickening sensation to the 
brain, and with dreadful emotion and shrinking limbs 
we were forced to hurry from the scene in amazement 
and horror. 

The charred bodies of the dead were placed in two 



448 THE TWO PARSONS. 

large mahogany boxes, which were borne by the mourn- 
ful procession, with slow and solemn tread, through the 
draped streets, and thence to the centre of the area once 
the receptacle of the gay throng who filled the seats of the 
theatre. They were buried in one common grave, on the 
spot on which the simple monument now stands. This 
serves as a mausoleum for the high-born and the lowly 
dead. 

Parson Buchanan read the service for the dead, with a 
pathos and beauty seldom heard, and Parson Blair, stand- 
ing by his side, took part in the impressive ceremonies. 
The good man, as he read, felt every word that he ut- 
tered, and his earnestness caused them to sink deep into 
the hearts of his hearers. 

" ' Man that is l)orn of a woman hath but a short 
time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up and is 
cut down, like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a shadow, 
and never continueth in one stay.' ' In the midst of life 
we are in death ; of whom may we seek for succor but of 
thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased?'" 
And then again, he laid peculiar emphasis upon the pas- 
sage, "'I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me. 
Write, from henceforth blessed are the dead who die in 
the Lord ; even so, saith the Spirit, for tliey rest from 
their labors.' " 

In the autobiography of Mr. Thomas Putherfoord, 
which we have read with much pleasure, we find, among 
many other incidents of interest, the following : 

" On going to my neighbor's, Mr. Thomas Wilson, I 
found that his wife and one of his daughters had gone 
down to the theatre ; tiiat his daughter had returned 
without injury, and without knowing what had become 
of his wife. In the agony of alarm Jie seemed bereft of 
reason, on which I persuaded him to go down with me 
to the tragic scene, where perhaps we might find her 



BURNING OF THE RICHMOND THEATRE. 449 

standing in need of assistance. On our arrival there we 
found nothing but (jonfusion. Many persons, like our- 
selves, were looking for lost relatives or friends, and unable 
to give answers to the inquiries which were made. All the 
wounded had by this time been removed to houses in the 
neighborhood. After roaming about for some time with 
Mr. Wilson, by some manner or other I lost him, and 
then fell in with Mr. Robert Greenhow, who, in like 
manner, had been looking about for his wife. He was 
then in a state of distraction, for by this time it was but 
too certain that all those of whom no account had been 
obtained had fallen victims to the devouring element. 
Seeing it useless to make further inquiries, I persuaded 
him to return home, where I left him, and returned to 
communicate to my family the result of my search. 

" The escape of my family and immediate connections 
from loss of life on this occasion shall ever be kept in 
grateful remembrance by us, and teach us to be submis- 
sive to the will of Providence, whose ways are ever wise 
and just." 



CHAPTER XXX. 

"CONCLUSION OF THE WHOLE MATTER." 

WEEKS, days, and hours, each freio:hted with stir- 
ring events, glided swiftly on. The incidents of 
the wedding night occupied the thoughts and the conver- 
sation of the elite of Richmond, and were the source of 
as much gossip and merriment as such an occurrence 
could well suggest. The surmises, even, of those who 
were present as to the cause of the indefinite postpone- 
ment of the marriage were various and contradictory; 
but the most exaggerated rumors were scattered broad- 
cast by those who were absent. It was current that the 
mother positively prohibited the marriage and had locked 
her daughter up and forcibly prevented her appearance 
at the wedding. Some had it that the groom appeared 
at the appointed time, and then, without assigning any 
reason for his conduct, had left the house and abandoned 
the young lady to grief and despair. Ko one had seen 
either mother or daughter for several days ; and even the 
servants whispered mysteriously that, take it altogether, 
it was a strange and most oncoramon affair! But the 
nine days' wonder at length passed away, and the current 
of thought was occupied by some novel event. 

The question first in the minds of our fair readers is, 
doubtless, " Were little Luly and our Thom married at 
last?" ric^^--^^^^ :\-lt^'ix 

We answer, as the old darkey at Powhatan did when 
pointing out the rock where Captain Smith's head was- 



CONCLUSION. 451 

laid just at the moment he was rescued by Pocahontas: 
"Did Smith marry Pocahontas?" "/;« course, Missus f'' 

" They met, and only met, 

Ere doomed by fate to sever; 
But O ! he could forget 

That meeting with her, xie.\eY ! " 

They often met after the scenes described in the chap- 
ter touchiniJ: a certain weddino- which did not come oif as 
expected. " Where there is a will there is a way." As 
usual, the opposition of the mother onl}^ intensified the 
ardor of the young folks; and in due time the nuptials 
were celebrated amid the congratulations of many friends 
and admirers. Parson Buchanan ofhciated at the wed- 
ding, taking the first kiss as his fee; while Parson Blair 
pronounced the benediction and sealed it with a kiss,, 
which was by no means his last. Mrs. Ingledon was 
very dignified and condescending on the occasion; but 
she lived to be fully reconciled to the marriage of her 
daughter and our Thom, and to rejoice in their prosperity 
and happiness. 

Our friends who have followed us in our interviews 
with the good Parsons and their cotemporaries will very 
naturally wish to know something more of their subse- 
quent career. 

Was Col. Braintree ever married, and to whom ? 

What became of the fee paid to Parson Buchanan by 
the Colonel? 

Did Parson Buchanan officiate at the wedding of "the 
Lass with the Golden Locks"? 

Was everybody else happily married ? etc., etc. 

To these questions we must answer, as Mr. Wickham 
did to the lady who very innocently asked, "Who built, 
the Natural Bridge ? " " Madam, God knows." 



452 THE TWO PARSONS. 

We will reproduce some of the obituary notices of 
Parsons Blair and Buchanan, as they appeared in the 
papers of the city soon after the melancholy events to 
which they refer. 

Memokials of Me. Buchanan. 
[From the Richmond Empiirer, of December 22, 1822.] 

"Died, on Wednesday night, in his eightieth year, the 
Rev. John Buchanan, a minister of the Episcopal Church, 
and for forty -odd years a resident of this city. He was 
faithful to the duties of a minister and a man. 

" ' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. 
This is the first and great commandment. And the se- 
cond is like unto it : Thou shalt love thy neighbor as 
thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law 
and the prophets.' This excellent man seemed to have 
these two laws written on the tablets of his heart. But 
we forl)ear. A biographical sketch is promised us for 
Tuesday, by one who knew and can describe him well. 
He was buried within the old church, to the right hand 
of the altar. A funeral discourse will be preacihed to- 
morrow, by Bishop Moore, in the Monumental Church." 

" Biographical Sketch. 

" The Reverend John Buchanan, who departed this 
life on the morning of the 19tli of this month, was born 
in Scotland in the year 1743. After receiving a liberal 
education at the University of Edinburgh, which con- 
ferred on him the degree of Master of Arts, he studied 
law, with a view of being admitted to the bar of his 
native county; but not being pleased with the profession 
chosen for him by his fiiends, he came to America and 
joined his eldest brother, the late Mr. James Buchanan, 
who was then extensively engaged in commerce in this 



CONCLUSION. 453 

place. It was soon perceived that neither his early habits 
nor his turn of mind fitted him for mercantile pursuits ; 
and his own inclination concurring with the advice of his 
brother, to study divinity, he returned to Great Britain, 
for the purpose of being invested with holy orders. After 
accomplishing this object, he again came to Virginia; 
but the war of our Revolution was then commencing, 
and he found no immediate employment as a clergyman 
of the Episcopal Church. After passing a short time 
with some friends, in whose families he acted as a private 
tutor, he returned to Richmond, where he officiated as an 
assistant to the Rev. Mr. Selden, then rector of the pa- 
rish of Henrico. He continued to perform this duty 
until the death of that gentleman, whom he succeeded as 
minister of the parish. 

" Mr. Buchanan was distinguislied as a classical scholar, 
and was a critical judge of his own language. 

" As a clergyman he was greatly approved. His ser- 
mons, which were excellent, were delivered with great 
pi'opriety, and with considerable eloquence. As a reader 
of the church service he had no superior. His attention 
had been particularly directed to this department of his 
sacred functions, and he was master of it. 

" That he was a firm believer of the doctrines he taught 
need scarcely be averred, because he was an honest man, 
incapable of guile. His piety, which was always cheer- 
ful, was as unostentatious as it was unaffected ; and the 
kindness of his heart permitted no asperity of feeling to 
mingle itself with his zeal. Allowing to all tliat freedom 
of conscience which he claimed for himself, he saw in 
every sincere professor of our faith a Christian, in every 
good man a brother. It is a rare instance of that meek 
and tolerant spirit which he believed to be inculcated by 
the precepts and example of the Saviour whose gospel 
he preached, that for many years himself and the Rev. 



4'54: THE TWO PARSONS. 

Mr. Blair, a minister of the Presbyterian Church, wlio 
were attracted to each other bj mutual excellence, and 
were bound together in the spiritual bonds of friendship, 
delivered sermons alternately from the same pulpit to al- 
most the same auditors. And it is characteristic of the 
principles which regulated his professional life, that after 
the improvement of his fortune enabled him to surrender 
entirely to his estimable friend and fellow-laborer the 
scanty subscription made by their congregation, he con- 
tinued without relaxation to perform his accustomed 
duties. 

" To the last moment of his life he cherished a grateful 
recollection of those from whom, while under the frowns 
of fortune, he had received kindness. 

" The distinguishing features of Mr. Buchanan's charac- 
ter, which endeared him while living, and will long pre- 
serve his memory in the tender recollection of those who 
knew him, were singleness of heart, simplicity of man- 
ners, and genuine benevolence. These qualities entered so 
thoroughly into the structure of his mind as to be at the 
same time deeply seated in his bosom, and apparent on 
the surface of his conduct. They were the agents which 
impelled, controlled and regulated the actions of his life 
They were visible to the transient acquaintance, and 
were felt by the intimate friend. 

" His benevolence was universal. It embraced the 
family of mankind, but was not of that cold-blooded, 
heartless character which exhausts itself in provisions 
of general philanthropy. It strengthened and warmed 
as the circle of its action was contracted. It was ac- 
tive in searching out distress, and delighted in reliev- 
ing it. 

"In the early part of his life, when his means were 
very limited ; at a more advanced period, when his for- 
tunes were liberal, he was the same kind, humane, and. 



CONCLUSION. 455 

charitable man, aiding iiis fellow-man to the extent of 
his power, and giving consolation to the wretched. 
"'To the homeless child of want 
His hand was open still ; ' 

and, like the clergyman described by Goldsmith, of 
whom it is impossible not to think when drawing the 
character of Mr. Buchanan, 

" ' His pity gave ere charity began.' " 

Memorials of Mr. Blair. 
[From the Richmond Enquirer of January 14, 1823.] 

" The death of the Rev. John D. Blair, late pastor of 
the Presbyterian church on Shockoe Hill, in this city, 
has already been announced. It has been so common to 
applaud indiscriminately the worthy and the unworthy 
dead that the approbation which is justly awarded to a 
good man is often regarded with suspicion; Init Mr. 
Blair ought not to be permitted, on this account, to de- 
scend unnoticed to the grave. 

"At an early period of his life he came to Virginia, 
and at once commenced a course of useful exertion. He 
first presided over the Academy of Washington-Henry, 
in Hanover. After some time he was introduced into 
the ministry by the Presbytery of Hanover, and assumed 
the charge of the Pole Green church, founded by the 
illustrious Davies. This church he continued to serve, 
after his removal to Richmond, until he assumed the 
charge of the Presbyterian church on Shockoe Hill. For 
many years he officiated in the Capitol alternately with 
the late John Buchanan. Within the last year his health 
gradually declined, and having entered the sixty-fourth 
year of his age, he was on the lOtli instant numbered 
with the dead. In the bosom of a community where for 
thirty years he has been so well known it cannot be ne- 



456 THE TWO PAKSOJSTS. 

cessary to delineate his character. Every one knows how 
extensively he was esteemed, and even loved. Amiable, 
unassuming, upright, benevolent, and kind, he deserved 
that his worth should be respected. In the domestic cir- 
cle his loss will be severely felt. Knowing the hold he 
had on the affections of his family, and convinced that 
outward demonstrations of sorrow were needless and un- 
availing, it was his will, from which their inclinations 
could not divert him, that tliey should not go into mourn- 
ing on his account. He has rendered important services 
to the public in superintending the education of youth, 
many of whom, in their turn, have been highly respect- 
able and useful in society. As a preacher of the gospel, 
his discourses were evangelical, intelligent, judicious, per- 
spicuous. But this is not all, nor is it enough. External 
excellences ought to procure the esteem of men ; but if 
these be the only excellences of human character they 
]-eceive their reward in this world. That system of reli- 
gion which is inculcated on others claimed of him the 
homage of the understanding and the heart as well as of 
the life. His dying testimony on this subject is worthy 
of the hio:hest confidence. He declared himself to be 
ready and waiting for his change, in the supporting hope 
of salvation through the righteousness of the Lord Jesus 
Christ and the sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit. 
' Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.' " 



The following lines, occasioned by the death of Parson 
Blair, also appeared in the Enquirer. They were written 
by Miss H., a devoted friend : 

" Well didst thou ask, that when thy soul had fled. 
And thy cold frame was numbered with the dead. 
No fond eulogium should thy worth proclaim. 



CONCLUSION. 45T 

Or deck with praise thy venerated name. 

Oh ! why should language task its powers to tell 

That goodness known so long and loved so well ? 

Or why should friendship on thy tomb bestow 

The last memorial of its weeping woe ? 

He never needs the sculptured marble's art, 

Whose epitaph is traced on every heart. 

" Oh ! could the spirit stoop from heavenly lays, 
To heed the tones a mortal band could raise; 
Though every lay that genius ever lent, 
In one full blaze of burning light was blent, 
And all the radiance of the mino-led fire 
Beamed o'er the poet's mind, and warmed his lyre. 
How weak its notes, its highest peals how vain. 
Beside the harping of an angel's strain ! 

"Then be it ours to mark the path he trod, 
The sacred track which leads from earth to God; 
Though mute the voice that holy warnings gave, 
Its solemn call now echoes from the grave. 
Oh ! let it teach, that virtue boasts the power 
To cheer the terrors of the dying hour; 
That memory culls from virtuous actions past, 
A wreath whose bloom through every age shall last; 
A faith triumphant to the failing eye 
Unfolds the sacred portals of the sky." ' 



Last Moments of Rev,. J. D. Blair, 

As Given by Rev. J. Blair Hooe. 

An undue power to control the events of eternity is- 

often attributed to a few of the last scenes of life ; yet 

these scenes are not without their interest. In some 

cases a disguise which had been long worn is at last 

29 



458 THE TWO PARSONS. 

withdrawn, or a foundation on which hope had long re- 
posed is unsettled. In others, a seal of confirmation is 
affixed to the evidences of preparation for lieaven which 
the previous life had furnished. It is, therefore, natural 
to inquire, and it may be profitable to know, how our 
friends felt and acted at the close of life. This congre- 
gation is doubtless solicitous to know how he who was 
wont to admonish them to prepare for their last hour 
met his own. Could I only tell you that, having long 
professed to be a disciple and minister of the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and having given evidence of his sincerity, this 
evidence remained unimpaired by the events of his last 
trial, this ought to be sufficient. Even the shrinking of 
nature from this shock ought not to outweigh the evi- 
dences of a pious life. Far be it from me to depreciate 
that triumphant grace which is often afforded to mortals 
in their final conflict; but this, pre-eminently desirable as 
it is, is not indispensable to salvation. 

On this subject I may, without impropriety, exhibit 
the views which your pastor has disclosed. Instead of 
gathering up the fragments of repeated conversations, 
reference shall be made to one specific occasion; not for 
the purpose of finishing off his character, or making an 
ostentatious display, but in order that his death may be use- 
ful as well as his life. Suffer me, then, for a moment, to 
rend the veil of domestic privacy, and introduce you as 
witnesses of a scene which it was m}^ privilege to witness. 
An affectionate father, worn down with disease, collects 
his afflicted children around him, and, feeling that the 
time of his departure is at hand, thus addresses them : 

"I have little to say to you; much less than I ex- 
pected, in consequence of my weakness. In the contem- 
plation of death, you are present to my mind. To part 
with you will be painful. My manner of life, and my 
doctrine, and the exhortations I have given you, you 



CONCLUSION. 459 

know. I have nothing new to add to these now. Your 
reliance for the pardon of your sins must be on the Lord 
Jesus Christ. To him alone vou must look. But this 
is not enough. You must be sanctified. You were born 
in sin, as I was. This must be overcome; for nothing 
unholy can enter the kingdom of heaven. The grace of 
God alone is sufficient to sanctify you, to rectify the dis- 
orders which sin has introduced, and to implant in your 
hearts new principles, destroying the power and the love 
of sin. This o-race is ever to be sous-ht with humble, 
fervent, penitent hearts. 

"In addition to this, and in consequence of this, you 
will find your highest delight in God, and your highest 
pleasure in his service. As for me, I have reason to be- 
lieve that I was early made a subject of Divine grace. 
I have not been without my faults. My aberrations were 
chiefiy in practical religion. When I was young I was 
very enthusiastic. I iiad the folly to think that if they 
would suffer me to preach, I could convert the world. 
But God was pleased to show me ray insufficiency. 

"When I began to preach I converted nobod3^ I 
could not do it. Yet I hope that God has been pleased 
to make me an instrument of good to many souls. 

" When I came to maturer years, my religion became 
rather a calm and settled conviction and habit, than a 
matter of feeling and an ebullition of love. And now, 
after I am gone, when it is asked, if I made any remark- 
able speech, you may tell them no ; but that I am not 
without hope and confidence. I depend on Him in whom 
I have believed. I think I have a right to plead His 
promises of mercy. He has never left me nor forsaken 
rae ; He has supported me all along, and I believe will 
still do so. I know that I must pass through the dark 
valley of the shadow of death , but I trust I am prepared 
for God's will, and that I shall be ready whenever He 



460 THE TWO PARSONS. 

shall call me hence. Lord Jesus, into Thy hands I com- 
mend my spirit." 

After giving some instructions respecting his funeral, 
and advice on other subjects, he added, " I should like 
once more to speak to the congregation, but I shall not 
be able to do that.'' 

In dropping the curtain around this scene, suffer me to 
repeat the message from his dying bed, which was an- 
nounced on the day of his interment. He wished you 
to recall to recollection the doctrines which he liad 
preached to you, and to be assured that he saw no reason 
to retract them. In this message he has sent to vou his 
last testimony of their truth and importance, and his last 
exhortation that you should cherish tliem. 

This discourse shall be closed with a few remarks in 
relation to liis Christian views and Christian character. 

The opinion is extensively current, that a good moral 
deportment is a sufficient preparation for death. I would 
not detract from the value of sound morality. But what- 
ever purposes it may answer here, something more may 
be necessary for eternity. This was the sentiment of 
him Avhose loss we deplore. He makes no allusion to his 
personal merit as the ground of his confidence, although 
he was better entitled to do this than multitudes who 
build on this as their only foundation. Even when he 
speaks of his own attainments as evidences of his safety, 
he employs the language of humility and confession. He 
asserts no claim to perfection. He concedes that, as a 
Christian, he has not been faultless, and that he has erred 
in practical religion. His is tlie spirit, not of the Phari- 
see, but of the publican. Who among us, whatever may 
be our attainments, could venture into eternity without a 
similar confession ? " God resisteth the proud, but giveth 
grace to the humble." Accordingly, his dependence was 
not on himself, but on " Divine grace ;" on the " pro- 



CONCLUSION. 461 

raises of mercy," on the Saviour, into wliose hands he 
commended his departing spirit. 

This is the only foundation for one who feels liimself 
to be a sinner. And on this he must establish himself at 
last, as he did at first. "All else is yielding sand." 

Religion, though uniform in principle, is various in its 
influences. There is one spirit, but a diversity of opera- 
tions. In every instance it regulates the intellectual and 
moral and active powers of its subject; l)ut its influence 
is often more manifest in one department than another. 
It may appear to be chiefly the reign of conWction, or 
affection, or action. In one case calmness, and in anotlier 
triumph, is its fruit in the last period of human life. 
Thus, in the case before us, it seemed, according to his 
own account, less to excite feeling, although it could not 
fail to do that, than to direct the convictions of the judg- 
ment, and to influence the habits of the life. In view of 
death, his deportment was uniform. Habitually patient 
under an oppressive disease, he at no time exhibited the 
least symptom of alarm. 

His evangelical confidence did not forsake him. He 
even expressed his solicitude that the scene might close, 
and the world retire from him for ever. In a sense ac- 
commodated to his own condition, he might have said, 
^' I am ready to be offered, and the time of my departure 
is at hand." As far as mortals can judge, his end was 
peace. 

Let, then, the afilicted family that mourn this bereave- 
ment, while they sorrow not as those who have no hope, 
remember the instructions, the example and the prayers 
of their head; let them trust in the God of their father, 
as they are taught in the gospel; and he will be their 
friend and unfailing portion. 

Let the congregation, whose Pastor has been removed 
from them, enquire how they have profited by his min- 



462 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

istiy ; and prepare for the account which awaits them in 
the last day. 

Let the ministers of the gospel, one of whom has been 
removed from his watch-tower, remember that their time 
is short; that their work is great; and that it becomes 
them to do qiiicklj wliatever they meditate for the salva- 
tion of their fellow-men, and the glory of their Lord and 
Master ! 



A tablet to the right of the pulpit, in Grace-street 
Presbyterian Church of Richmond, contains the follow- 
ing inscription : 

IN MEMORY 

OF THE 

EEY. JOHN D. BLAIR, 

First Pastor of this Church. 

A Man without Guile, 

Of Cultivated Intellect, 

Gentle Manners, 

Sound in Christian Doctrine, 

AND Eminently Beloved. 

Born October 13, 1759. 
Died January 10, 1823. 



We quote from a recent article in the Sehna Times a 
passage which faithfully expressed our sentiments in re- 
gard to preachers generally : 

" They are our friends. They stand by us ; they are 
always faithful. In our happiest moments they are with 
us to rejoice, to laugh, to be happy, too. When sorrow 
comes they are faithful still. 

They are the conservatives. They are good citizens, 
and set us a good example. They are the balance-wheels 
of society, the scotch to the wagon, air brakes to the 



CONCLUSION. 463 

train, the pendulum to the clock. They are like the Sab- 
batli, that gives us rest and peace. They are to society 
what the judge is to the law. We love them all, and 
when they are blotted out, which God forbid, we want to 
go too. In sickness, in trouble, in affliction, yea, in the 
last agonies, they are with us and comfort us, while the 
busy world wags on. God bless the preachers of this 
land, the preachers of every creed that teaches love for 
our Creator, and love and kindness for one another." 



As an evidence of the good feeling and pleasant humor 
of our worthy Pastors, which has been transmitted to a 
succeeding generation, we give the following correspond- 
ence between a worthy son of Parson Blair and his de- 
voted friend, tlie author of these reminiscences of by-gone 
days : 

In August, 1871, Col. Walter D. Blair, a merchant 
of high standing in this city, beloved by all who knew 
him for his high business qualifications, warm friendship,, 
and unsullied honor, in kind rememl)rance of his friend, 
who had removed to Gloucester, sent lijm as a present a 
substantial box, containing all sorts of groceries and 
nick-nacks, with a kind letter asking the acceptance of 
the box as a small token of his affection. The letter 
contained several pleasant stanzas of his own original 
poetry, which we regret we cannot reproduce, it having 
been, unfortunately, mislaid. 

The following answer was promptly sent : 

" When I was a little boy I lived by myself ; 
All the bread and cheese I got I put upon the shelf ; " 
Now I am an old man, as all my friends can see, 
I put it in my children's mouths at breakfast, lunch, and 
tea; 



464 THE TWO PARSONS. 

And if I have no tea to drink, with water we're content; 
Or else we drink our buttermilk, not waitino- e'en for 

Lent. 
This old Yirginia gentleman once drank the best of tea ; 
Gave friends the best imperial, gunpowder, and bohea. 
He took his coffee when he pleased, with sugar and with 

cream, 
But now it seems to him to be a fancy or a dream. 

His tables groaned with meats and breads, and desserts 

rich and rare ; 
But now they look quite lean and lank, with dishes scarce 

and bare ; 
Of best of drinks he had enough to satisfy his thirst. 
And the only fault he had to find, his bottles they would 

burst. 
He had his old madeira wine, his sherry and champagne. 
His carboys filled witli Marshall's best, his murdock and 

his bayne ; 
His port, his claret, and his hock, with cobwebs on the 

corks. 
And glasses of the finest cut, and silver knives and forks. 
His brandies, old^ Geneva gin, his rye and malted ale ; 
But now he's left, like Job of old, alone to tell the tale. 
He drinks his bald-faced lightning stuff, that's warranted 

to kill ; 
And when he takes it in his mouth he shudders with a 

chill. 
The Sabeans took Job's oxen, his asses and his cows ; 
The Chaldeans swept his camels, his implements and 

ploughs ; 
But full-blood Yankees, worse than these, this gentleman 

distressed, 
And left him nothing but his skin of all that he possessed ; 
Yet, still he's blessed with many gifts were not b}^ Job 

retained, 



CONCLUSION. 465 

And. kindest friends are helping him with goods that 
they have gained. 

Shall we receive good gifts from God, and not a tithe of 
ill? 

We must sul)mit with humbleness to His Almighty will. 

The wind from out the wilderness Job's children all de- 
stroyed ; 

But his are left to soothe his age with kindness unalloyed. 

Job's wife was left to scold at him with many scoffs and 
sneers ; 

But his upbraids him not for woes, but always smiles and 
cheers. 
This old Virginia gentleman, while grubbing in his 
land, 

Is kindly thought of by his friends, and taken by the 
hand. 

It makes his heart rebound again, and salt tears fill his 
eyes ; 

They run adown his furrowed cheeks and call forth plea- 
sant sighs ; 

The little ones run round his feet, and sport with joy and 
leap; 

Each one is anxious round the box to take a longing peep. 

With hammer and with chisel, then, the lid is quick re- 
moved ; 

When all his former scenes return, and those he so much 
loved. 
Once more he takes his coifee now, with sugar and 
with cream; 

Ceylon and Java both in view, no phantom nor a dream. 

Cut sugar of the sparkling kind, that glitters in the light. 

And freshest lard in canisters, as pure as snow, and 
white. 
His special friends he asks to come and taste his plea- 
sant tea ; 



4:QQ THE TWO PAKSONS. 

" Gunpowder and Japan," he says, " my friend has sent 

to me;" 
And then he takes his whiskey out and puts it to his nose, 
And as he tastes he smacks his lips, and feels it in his toes, 
Then, last of all, he draws the cork — 'tis good old sherry 

wine ; 
They sip, and taste, and eye it well, and say it's rich and 

fine. 
This old Virginia gentleman with glowing ardor burns 
To make for kindness such as this the warmest, best 

returns ; 
If ever fortune smiles again upon his latter days. 
He'll send a Christmas box chock full of gratitude and 

praise. 



Chancellor Wythe's Religious Opinions. 

The religious opinions of Chancellor Wythe have been 
called in question by some, who supposed that he had 
imbibed the skeptical views of his professor while a stu- 
dent at William and Mary College. 

It will be seen from the followinc; statement, written 
by him late in life, that his views on this subject had 
undergone a great change, although they are not exactly 
in accordance with the doctrines of the evangelical 
churches of the present day. 

"77/6 late Chancellor Wythe s opinion respecting reU- 
gion^ delivered hy himself : 

"Why, sir, as to religion, I have ever considered it as 
our best and greatest friend. Those glorious views which 
it gives of our relation to God, and of our destination 
to heaven, on the easy terms of a good life, unques- 
tionably furnish the best of all motives to virtue, the 
strongest dissuasives from vice, and the richest cordial 
under trouble. Thus far, I suppose, we are all agreed ;^ 



CONCLUSION. 46T 

but not, perliaps, so entirely in another opinion, wliicli is, 
that in the sio;ht of God moral character is the main 
point. Tliis opinion, very clearly taught by reason, is as 
fully confirmed hy religion, which everywhere teaches 
that the tree will be valued only for its good fruit ; and 
that in the last day, according to our works of love or of 
hati'ed, of mercy or of cruelty, we shall sing with angels 
or w^eep wdth devils. In short, the Christian religion, — 
the sweetest and sublimest in the world, — labors through- 
out to infix in our hearts this great truth, that God is 
love, and that in exact proportion as we grow in love we 
grow in his likeness, and consequently shall partake of 
his friendship and felicity for ever. While others, there- 
fore, have been beating their heads or embittering their 
hearts with disputes about forms of baptism and modes 
of faith, it has always, thank God, struck me as my great 
duty instantly to think of this: 'God is love, and he that 
dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him.'" 



The fellowship of kindred minds, as exhibited in the 
lives of Parsons Blair and Buchanan, has been happily 
transmitted from generation to generation, and is at pre- 
sent a striking characteristic of the ministers of the va- 
rious denominations of Christians in this city. 

The following passage from a memorial discourse, de- 
livered in the Second Presbyterian church, Richmond, 
Va., by the Rev, Dr. M. D. Hoge, on the Rev. Dr. J. B. 
Jeter, Rev. Dr. William S. Pluraer, and Bishop D. S. 
Doggett, will fully confirm the truth of the al)Ove state- 
ment : 

"No one denomination can assert an exclusive interest 
in the divine attributes of wisdom, power, holiness, jus- 
tice, goodness, and truth, which rise up and encircle the 
whole Church for its protection, as the mountains stood 



468 THE TWO PAKSONS. 

round about Jerusalem. Now that the Sun of righteous- 
ness has ascended to its zenith, no one portion of the 
vineyard can concentrate its beams upon its own soil, or 
so deflect them that another portion of the vineyard shall 
be left in the bleak, cold shade. A church can be feeble 
in numbers, may be without wealth, learning, and pa- 
tronage ; but it cannot on that account be deprived of the 
impartial rays which shine alike on the cedar of Lebanon 
and the lily of the valley, on the stately palm and the 
lowly violet. 

"All the treasures of the past enrich the whole herit- 
age of God. The old confessors witnessed their good 
confession for the encouragement of all generations ; the 
holy martyrs shed their blood that tlie faith of all who 
profess and call themselves Christians might be fortified 
to the end of time. The splendid literature of other ages 
refines and instructs the whole famil}^ of the redeemed. 
Chrysostom, Massillon, Jeremy Taylor, Baxter, White- 
field, Wesley, Kobert Hall, and Chalmers, — what single 
communion can circumscribe the influence of these princes 
of the pulpit ? Does not Bunyan guide all pilgrims who 
inquire the way to the celestial city? Does not Milton 
sing in the ear of all who sigh because of Paradise Lost, 
and Avho hope for a name and a place in the Paradise 
Regained ? 

" There is probably no city in the land where there is 
more kindly feeling among the different denominations 
than in Richmond . It had a very early manifestation. 
At the beginning of the century the Presbyterians and 
Episcopalians of this city worshipped together in the 
Hall of Delegates in the old Capitol, for more than 
twenty years, presenting the remarkable spectacle of one 
congregation with two pastors; Parson Blair, as he was 
familiarly called, of the Presbyterian Church, officiating 
on one Sunday, and Parson Buchanan, of the Episcopal 



CONCLUSION. 469 

Church, on the next; both of them to the same people ; 
each conducting the service in his own way, and all to- 
gether uniting in it. The friendship between these two 
good men was of the most intimate character, and when 
not together, they made their intercourse almost con- 
tinuous by the playful notes which continually passed be- 
tween them. One day Buchanan wrote: 'Come to my 
house; we will not discuss the apostolic succession, but 
we will unbend the bow.' ' I will come,' replied Blair, 
'and we will sharpen our arrows, not against each other, 
but against the common foe.' Like true apostles, they 
lived and labored together till the close of life: when in 
the providence of God, within a few days of each other, 
they entered upon their reward, to renew their inter- 
coarse in the world of love. Their spirit lias descended 
to our own times; and now, were a minister in any de- 
nomination to proclaim from his pulpit arrogant and in- 
tolerant claims in behalf of his own church, I believe 
there is a public sentiment in this community that would 
put him down and shut him up. It is quite possible to 
maintain the unity of the spirit in the bonds of peace, 
without the slightest abatement of loyalty to one's own 
doctrinal standards and forms of worship, in accordance 
with the grand old motto : ' In necessary things, unity ; in 
doubtful things, liberty; in all things charity.' This is 
the true Catholic spirit. It has well been said, 'Like the 
tribes of Israel, we may all encamp about the taljernacle 
of God — each under his own standard — and when the 
ark advances, all may move onward, terrible only to the 
powers of darkness.' " 



CUPID'S SPORTS. 

No. I. 



" Am T in fairy land? or tell me, pray, 
To what love-li.irhted bower I've found my way ? 
Sure luckless wight was never more beguiled. 
In woodland maze or closely-tangled wild." 

SOMEWHERE in Virginia, and in a certain year, but 
I beg you will not enquire when or where, for you 
will break the thread of my discourse, and I shall be com- 
pelled, like Corporal Trim, when he was rehearsing the 
Lord's Prayer before my dear uncle Toby, to begin at the 
beginning at every interruption, " there lived a young man 
in a certain town." 

'Now, my dear reader, do you suppose I intend telling 
you a story without a single name, date, or place in it ? 
If you do, I am afraid you would see me at Kamschatka, 
or in Simm's hole, before you would make up your mind 
to travel one inch with me, or listen to one syllable. 

Well, then, in a certahi place, and at a certain time, 
as young Timothy was sitting in the cool evening's shade, 
musing over the events that human life befall, and re- 
flecting upon the many ups and downs he must necessarily 
encounter during the residue of his life, that old heathen 
god, who, paradoxical as it may appear, is still as young 
as he was at the day of his birth — I mean sly Cupid, who 
was, and is, and ever will -be, a boy to all eternity — hap- 
pened to have been snugly perched upon a branch of the 
very tree under which our friend w^as reclining, and the lit- 



Cupid's sports. 471 

tie nrcliin sat pluming his variegated wings, and feeling 
the points of his keen feathery arrows, preparing for his 
evening sport. 

Poor Tim! how little did he dream he was the subject 
the young god had selected for as merry a frolic as ever 
fortune smiled upon in her merriest mood. 

Tim was in his twentieth year ; " a leal light heart was * 
in his breast ;" he knew not the cares and anxieties of the 
world, nor had he yet encountered fortune's frowns ; he 
had enjoyed a full portion of her smiles and blandish-' 
ments, and his life had flitted along like a gay summer's 
dream. He had yet to learn that all his castles were but 
air-built and fanciful, and it was necessary he should plod 
a little upon his mother earth. Tim was none of your 
dashing, thorough-going bloods, who soar aloft with the 
eagles of the day, ever and anon to pounce upon some 
harmless pigeon ; nor was he one of your gig and tan- 
dem boys, flourish and dash, tinsel and paint, who whirl 
about for a season, and are all the go while the drink or 
the credit lasts, but who finally whirl off to jail, or into ob- 
scurity or insignificance, nobody knows where, and no- 
body cares when. He was a mild, pleasant, merry-mak- 
ing fellow. As for his person, my dear miss, you must 
excuse me. I know from your looks you are anxious to 
know whether he had black hair and black eyes, or lio'ht 
hair and i)lue eyes, or red hair and gray eyes; but really, 
I can't tell you. Certain it is he had eyes and a nose, and 

"When he happened to grin, 
His mouth stood across 
'Twixt his nose and his chin." 

There he lay, all defenceless, on his right side (I like 
to be particular) with his clean white roundabout, and 
his waistcoat unbuttoned, both thrown carelessly over 
his left-arm ; there lay liis heart, gently swelling and sub- 



472 CUPID S SPORTS. 

siding, and he unconscious of its flow, while Cupid — I 
was about to say, while Cupid's keen eyes were penetrat- 
ing its inmost recesses, and eyeing it as a hawk some 
sunny percli in a limpid stream; but alas for Cupid, the 
ancients have interdicted the use of his eyes; neverthe- 
less, on the present occasion, it is necessary for my pur- 
•poses that Cupid should at least take the bandage from 
off his eyes, and, the ancients to the contrary notwith- 
standing, I do maintain that the sly god has as beautiful 
a pair of eyes as ever were seen; yes, and he is able to 
change them at his pleasure. At one time he appears 
with the mildest, softest, kindest, dearest, heavenly blue 
eyes; at another, with the keenest, blazing, and yet the 
blackest eyes that ever flashed wit and eloquence, and 
expressing all the passions that the heart ever darts 
through its open portals. All eyes are his, of every hue 
and every form ; and at this moment he was using as play- 
ful and as devilish a pair as ever bewitched and enchanted 
a trembling maiden. He sat quietly selecting the most 
mortal parts of that defenceless heart, with bow well 
strung and barbed arrows, and ever and anon he placed 
tlie winged messenger to the string, and twanged his silver 
bow. Cupid sometimes but tips his arrows' point with a 
poison as rapid in its action and as eflicacious as the most 
powerful prussiac acid, and woe to the youth or the maid 
who feels the deadly pang; at other times he slightly 
dips the barb, and leaves it to time and circumstances to 
develope its potent influences. On the present occasion 
having smitten poor Tim with a double portion, away he 
fled to practise his wiles on other subjects. Gentle reader, 
you are now introduced to our young friend, Tim. You 
have seen him in a condition worse than that of Daniel 
in the lion's den, and whether he is delivered or not your 
patience will enable you to discover. Would that I could 
have interposed a shield to protect the youth; but what 



cupid's spokts. 473 

the fates decree no mortal can prevent; and you know, 
what is to be happens for the best. 

Have yon ever seen a lady setting her cap for a beau ? 
This is an every-day occurrence, and yet how difficult to 
explain, though ever so easy to perform. It is one of 
those things that delicate fingers alone can accomplish 
or portray. For my part, I have seen, and heard, and 
thought, and talked much and often of these caps, that 
nine times in ten are no caps at all, and yet the exact 
method of setting them is not to be described. Were I 
to describe the lady's habiliments, you would have not 
the least idea how her cap was set ; were I to dwell upon 
the peculiar cut of the cap itself, its points or its quillings, 
its trimmings or its laces, and how it was placed, whether 
on the top of the head, or down upon the ears, or a little 
to one side, or square, or round, it matters not, you would 
still be wide of the mark ; but yet, when the " cap is set," 
there is no mistake in the matter. 

Good reader, you are not acquainted with my little 
Mary. She had as happy a knack of setting a cap as 
ever a lass had since the days of mother Eve, and on this 
very evening she will appear with it set to such advantage 
that all the family servants as she passes them will utter 
an involuntary " Umph-y-y." Can you conceive the pecu- 
liar sound here vainly attempted to be embodied ? — for of 
all utterable exclamations it is the most exhilarating to a 
miss in her teens. If yon cannot, know that it signifies, 
"I tell you what, young massa, you better steer clear." 
Little Molly is not the greatest beauty of the age, nor yet 
the loveliest flower that ever bloomed, but she was pretty 
enough to make Cupid's little arrows rankle in Tim's sus- 
ceptible heart; and fate would have it that they should 
accidentally meet, somehow or other, wherever they went. 
She had a peculiar way of her own of fixing on a bonnet, 
a little gypsy bonnet, down the sides of which hung her 
30 



474 cupid's sports. 

long flaxen ringlets; and where she parted her hair on 
her forehead there was carelessly pinned a half-blooming 
moss-rose, behind which sat Cupid laughing in his sleeve. 
I say carelessly pinned, because it seemed as though it 
mattered not whether 'twere there or not; and yet more 
care had been used in giving it its particular position 
than all the rest of her dress, and perhaps, after all, this 
was " setting her cap." 

Tim had never seen little Molly look half so sweet 
before, and when his eyes and hers would meet there 
was a sensation created that thrilled through his every 
fibre. To him that rose-bud seemed to be instinct 
with life and animation, and Cupid's laughing eyes and 
smiling face made every leaf "a heart-quake." Tim had 
been thought to be brave ; his comrades always looked up 
to him as a leader in daring enterprises. Men have been 
known to walk up to tlie cannon's mouth when the gun- 
ner stood with the lighted match within a few inches of 
the powder ; but to storm a rose-bud, manned by Cupid, 
on so polished a brow, required a dare-devil spirit that 
human nature shrunk from: and though Tim would have 
given the world to have touched that bud, he could not 
have advanced his finger an incli towards it by any possi- 
bility. This first symptom of the operation of Cupid's 
arrows but few have escaped. You would give the w^orld 
to approach the loved object, and yet a touch would 
create a shock as violent as that from a leyden jar well 
charged with the electric fluid. 

Little Molly's was what would be termed a laughing 
face. Her clear blue eyes were lighted up by a mind 
vivid and playful; cheerfulness and contentment were 
conspicuous on her brow. But yet she was one of your 
real mischievous little imps, who knew a thing or two, 
and was up to all kinds of tricks. In truth, she used to 
say of herself that she had a little devil in her. Now, 



cupid's sports. 475 

don't be alarmed, my good reader. I don't mean the 
evil spirit who roams about seeking whom to devour — 
"that tailed, horned, heartless chiel, the very deil." But 
she had a way of practising so many little artful, inno- 
cently wicked things, and they were done in so artless a 
manner, that thouo-h you would think from their effects 
his Satanic majesty alone was the guilty perpetrator, yet 
you could not help loving his highness the more for his 
misdeeds. Of all thino;s in the world she seemed to de- 
rive most pleasure from practising her playfulness on 
friend Tim, and at every successive effort Tim would 
only exclaim, " Surely the devil is in the girl ! What in 
the devil does she mean ? " Tim had better have suf- 
fered the devil to go about his business ; but no, he kept 
inquiring "what in the devil" the girl meant, till Cupid 
had him head and ears, neck and shoulders, heart and 
soul, body and life, as safe a prisoner as was ever incar- 
cerated in a dungeon's darkness. 

Little Molly was perfectly innocent of any intention 
to entrap our friend; nothing was farther from her 
thoughts. She only intended at the outset to gratify her 
disposition for fun, and she knew no more the state of 
her own heart than if she had been deprived of that 
throbbing, thumping, turbulent member ; but when kin- 
dred hearts often sport together, and kindred eyes, often 
meet with kindred glances, kindred throbs will beat, 
awakening kindi-ed feelings, which some little flaxen- 
haired, dear, blue-eyed lassies find truly difiicult to oblit- 
erate. 

Reader, dost thou expect me to give thee in black and 
white my hero's courtship ? Of all things in the world, 
the most tame and insipid are lovers' courtships ; it may 
be the most interesting, animating, soul-stirring, thrilling 
courtship that ever mortal breathed, but canst thou enter 
into the feelings, and go along with the heart in its gen- 



476 cupid's sports. 

tie outpourings ? 'Tis not words, sentences, nor ideas 
clothed in the dress of fancy, or robed in imagination's 
best attire. 'Tis the look, the touch, the action, that 
constitutes the universal language of love none can mis- 
understand. 

I must take thee, my good friend, (for we must be 
friends who are travelling so cosily together,) and place 
thine eye at a key -hole, where "you shall see what you 
shall see." Alas, poor Tim ! I have been watching thy 
movements ; thou evidently knowest not what thou doest. 
Instead of reading, as thou wast wont, thou hast been 
serving thy apprenticeship to that manufacturer^ Cupid • 
" Of all the epithets that ever were applied to a heathen 
god, none can be more appropriate, though I say it who 
should not, than this epithet bestowed by me upon Cupid. 
Cupid a manufacturer ? Yes, a manufacturer. When- 
ever you see a poor fellow sweating over the tire, tiling, 
and stretching, and polishing rings; carving hearts, and 
diamonds, and the like, you may set it down that Cupid 
is teaching his apprentice the first rudiments of his art,^ 
for he is the master-workman who superintends the man- 
ufacture of all such invaluable tokens, and teaches the 
how, and the where, and the M^hen they are to be distri- 
buted and bestowed. You are now seated at that key- 
hole; I have told you what has been Tim's employment; 
make the best use of your eyes, and tell us what you see. 
Who ever saw a fellow try on a ring in that way before? 
putting the ring upon the fore-finger ? The rogue knows 
as well as you do that that little ring will not go over the 
first joint of that finger ; but, then, it is so pleasant to 
try, the finger is so soft and white. Trying it on the 
middle finger ? He knows that the ring will not go over 
the nail; but that finger is so tapering, how conld he 
avoid it. Had it been you or I, we should have placed 
it at once on the ring-finger, and there would have been 



cupid's sports. 477 

an end of the matter ; but, look ! the fellow is trying it 
npon the little finger ; that finger is so little, and some- 
how or other so lonely, he feels for it a tender compas- 
sion. A little finger look lonely when in company with 
three fingers and a thumb ? Aye, lonely ; and its little 
nail is so thin you may see the blood circulating under 
it ; and, of all things, to see the blood flowing fresh from 
the heart, so delicately tinged, is — The fellow has slip- 
ped the ring on, is gently squeezing the whole hand, and 
"has raised his wistful eyes to heaven," and little Molly 
has gently tapped him on the cheek with her fan, as much 
as to say, " You rogue." 

Get away from the door, my good friend ; you have 
now seen as much as we bargained for; and, my dear 
miss, you are anxious to know what conversation passed 
all tlie while between Tim and little Mary. I'll tell you : 
there did not pass one solitary word ; but two little hearts 
were in as much of a flutter as ever was made by a flock 
of partridges springing from their cover. 

By this time Tim had become grave and sentimental; 
and, oh ! if you ever heard music ! Morning, noon, and 
night there was the most incessant fluting — fluting — 
fluting. It was all of that soft, die-away kind. You 
would have thought that Tim's soul was melting away 
and softly escaping through his flute. His heart, too, 
had undergone as thorough a change as that of the silk- 
worm transformed into the moth. His mind was ethe- 
realized; instead of the hum-drum, common-place, pros- 
ing thoughts he once indulged in, his imagination now 
soared aloft ; he was dwelling amid the heights of Par- 
nassus; his soul was drinking in the nectar of poesy and 
revelling in the ambrosia of fancy. You may talk of the 
Pirenian spring as the fount of knowledge ; you may 
invoke the muses from their heavenly habitation, and 
Apollo and Minerva may attend in their train, but unless 



4T8 CUPId's 8POBT8. 

Cupid's arrows have drunk of the heart's blood, tinging 
the sources of the mind's impressions, poesj will still be 
steeped in Lethe's wave, and never spring into life's gay 
morn. Now every thouo;ht is dressed and ornamented ; 
and oh ! the fantastic flights ; oli ! the soft, mellow pasto- 
rals ; the country life ; the blue vaulted arch unspotted 
with a cloud; nature, simple and gay. There she is, 
sweetly clad, all beautiful and fresh. Aye, and the loved 
one ! — pearls, and gems, and diamonds, and roses, and 
lilies, and stars, and suns, and firmaments in splendor 
glowing ; and " could the busy bee but taste those lips 
he'd quit his hollow domes to revel 'mid the sweets upon 
that hallowed spot.'' 

As for little Molly, she too had undergone a metamor- 
phosis ; she, who was wont to play so many tricks before 
high heaven, " who loved to play them off upon poor Tim 
better than on all others," had grown so shy you w^ould 
have sworn she hated the very sight of him. In tlie com- 
pany of others, when Tim was present, she scarcely open- 
ed her mouth to him ; she scarcely ever spoke of him ; 
no word of remembrance broke from her lips ; you 
would have thought he was obliterated from her mind ; 
but more could be read by these two in a single glance 
of the eye than volumes could express. As for me, I'd 
rather have the sensation produced by one of those stolen 
glances than be made a king. In such a situation I 
would not be compelled to talk by all the racks of the 
inquisition. Silence is delight. But at such a time to be 
bored with one of your real clatter, clatter, jabbering, 
never-ending, incessant talkers, is the most horrible pur- 
gatory. Poor Tim was just in this situation. Little 
Molly had a noisy, oilicious cousin, who he thought 
uglier than the veriest hag that ever shrank and shrivelled 
into stingy nothingness, and yet the girl was comely 
enough. She had taken it into her head that her cousin 



cl'pid's sports. 479 

Mary liated the aforesaid Tim, and therefore kindly vol- 
unteered to rid her of so troublesome a companion ; and in 
consequence of such sage surmises, never failed, when 
Tim paid a visit, to intrude herself among them ; and oh ! 
the clatter ! Tim's heart sank within him ; he came not 
to talk. 

My dear young miss, whoever thou art that seest these 
lines, let me advise thee as a friend to take thyself to 
thine apartment, and remain in solitude the balance of 
thy life, rather than interfere in these critical moments,, 
for you may rely upon it, that thou art hated, contemned ^ 
abhorred, and despised to a degree that is truly sinful. 
Thou art cursed with ten thousand more curses than ever 
Dr. Slop poured upon the head of luckless Obadiah. 

Gentle reader, (for thou must be gentle to have travel- 
led with me so far without wincing, and yet have heard 
so little,) can you tell me how it is that when a man is in 
love, however rambling and roving his disposition may 
have been before, as soon as he is fairly caught, he 
becomes from that moment confined to one solitary route. 
Let me explain myself, for I have been carefully noticing 
our friend Tim. He and little Molly lived in the same 
town, but at a considerable distance apart, and yet to 
whatever part of the town Tim was called, he was as cer- 
tain to pass by little Molly's house as he was to pass out 
of his own door. For instance, he would go to the post- 
office, and from the frequency of his visits you would 
have supposed he had more correspondents than all the 
merchants of the place put together; and while the post- 
oflice was up town, little Molly's was down town, and yet 
he invariably went down town by little Molly's to get up 
town to the post-ofiice. One might suppose that Tim 
expected to see little Moll}^ at the windows ; but she was 
not one of your starers, mIio employ themselves in gazing 
at the comers and goers ; and I'll venture to say, that in 



480 cupid's spokts. 

six months Tim never saw her once, and yet, go in what 
direction he might ultimately intend, go down town in. 
the first place he must ; and he experienced more pleasure 
in passing that house than in eating his breakfast or his 
dinner. This is a species of hydrophobia that I will leave 
you to think on and cure. These incidents had occurred ; 
these symptoms had been made manifest. In the mean 
time two years rolled onwards. Tim was in his twenty- 
second year, and little Molly in her eighteenth. 

One day as Tim stood ready, with hat in hand, to take 
his leave after an interview — it had been a long and hope- 
less one — looking wistfully at her, he said, energetically 
and in a voice deep-toned, "It is the last time I will ask. 
If you are in earnest, I go for ever." I listened, but 
could not hear the reply. There was a pause. Perhaps 
nothing was said. I thought I heard a kiss. I may be 
mistaken ; but certain I am that instead of hearing Tim 
leave the house I heard him walk rapidly to the table and 
throw down his hat. When I again saw him, the pen- 
sive, musing, meditative Tim was the merriest fellow that 
ever cracked a bottle. When a man has had his hat in 
his hand, and with a woe-begone countenance has risen to 
make a final adieu, under the impression that he is utterly 
discarded and despised, and suddenly resumes his seat 
with such evidences of change of purpose, we generally 
presume he has obtained the liberty of hanging his hat 
up, which is tantamount to obtaining the liberty of the 
domicil, aud is what I should call the gentleman's setting 
his hat in contradistinction to the lady's setting her cap. 
Day after day, go when you would, and peep into that 
passage, you would find Tim's new beaver hanging 
upon the same hook, and these two young innocents sit- 
ting side and side, cheek and jole, feasting on each other's 
eyes. Tim would sometimes talk of the future, and de- 
velop his little schemes for their mutual happiness ; but 



cupid's sports. 481 

if ever he touched upon that most delicate of all subjects, 
the ascertainment of the period when their two hearts 
were to be linked indissolubly together, all the delicacj^ 
of the female character would instantly be aroused, and 
little Molly, in a playful mood, would sing out, "Time 
enough yet ! Time enough yet ! " 

Matters remained in this unsettled condition ; our friend 
Tim still enduring the same uncertainty, living in that 
half-delightful, half -vexatious state which totally unfits a 
man for any occupation, unless it be "breathing soft 
music through a mellow pipe." Our friend thought more 
than once 'twas time these scenes should be ended. Ac- 
cordingly he determined to inform his good mother of 
his happy prospects as a prelude to his future move- 
ments. Many ineffectual efforts were made, but it was a 
delicate business. 

How to commence these soft narrations has puzzled 
more heads than one. He had given tlie old lady re- 
peated chances to help him out by sly hints and inuendoes, 
but she would never perceive what he was driving at. 
The truth was, she had selected in her own mind a most 
eligible match for her son, and she could not believe he 
was so blind as not to discover its advantages. Money 
was the foundation upon which that edifice was to be 
erected; but Tim, poor fellow, belonged to an ill-fated 
family. Not one of his ancestors had ever married other 
than a poor girl, from the remotest antiquity ; and he had 
a sentimental notion of such affairs that would for ever 
exclude the idea of his marrying a rich one, whatever 
other qualifications she might possess. At length, Tim 
succeeded in getting his mother safely cornered, the door 
shut, and no one else present. Walking backwards and 
forwards for a minute or two, he stopped suddenly, as if 
he was about to commence. The old lady was knitting 
away by the fire. Instead of commencing, Tim walked 



482 cupid's sports. 

to a chair, as if he were about placing it close along side, 
and statin^: the whole case like a man; bnt turning about,, 
he deliberately set the chair in the corner and folded his 
arms. "Mother," said Tim, and then he cleared his 
throat. "What, mj son," "I have been thinking whether 
it would not be better to have our old house painted." 
This was a new idea, one that had never crossed Tim's 
mind till it was littered, and as it happened, 'twas not an 
inappropriate one. "But, my child, it will answer very 
well as it is, for such an old body as I, and if you begin 
to paint, you will be compelled to furbish up everything 
else." " But, mother, suppose T should think of courting 
some voung bodv." " Oh ! if you will fall in love with 
my little favorite, you can afford to paint and furbish 
too." That was a chord Tim had heard struck before 
to-day. " Suppose she wont love me, and somebody else 
will." "Faint heart," said his consoling mother, "never 
won fair ladj'." The old lady was off upon the old track; 
but Tim having fairl)^ begun, was not to be so easily 
baffled this time; so taking up his chair, he walked de- 
liberately to the fire, and seating himself, placed his feet 
upon the fender. "Mother," said Tim, "it is time I 
should tell you that — -, — " 

Bap, rap, rap ! Tantarara, bang ! rang the old brass 
knocker at the outer door. 

" See wlio is there, my son." " Hang all the world," 
thought Tim, " shall I never have an opportunity of tell- 
ing the old lady ? " Tim took no candle with him to the 
door. "'Who's here?" "Harry, sir." "Well, uncle 
Harry, what do you want?" "Mars Tim, Miss Mary 
send her compliments, and tell me give you dis letter." 
Tim ran his hand into his pocket and gave old Harry a 
bit of silver. " I refkon," said Harry, who began to 
think Mars Tim and he were old cronies, " I reckon young 
missus don't send letters to young massa for nutting."" 



cdpid's sports. 483 

"Wait for an answer a moment, uncle Hany," said Tim, 
kindly. 

"Who's at the door, my son?" said the old lady, as 
Tim returned, holding an open letter in his hand. "A 
servant, madam," was the reply. " What," said Tim to 
himself, as he walked to the candle, "does my Mary 
want ? " 

Good reader, while old Harry is \vaiting at the door in 
the best humor in the world, because he had the good 
fortune to be the bearer of a love letter^ as he shrewdly 
suspected, from his young mistress to so good a young- 
gentleman, and while the good old lady is knitting away 
and thinking how to induce her son to fall in love with 
her favorite, if thou wilt follow my example thou mayst 
perceive what is going on for thyself. Thou seest that I 
am about to take a sly peep over friend Tim's shoulder, 
and if thou wait peep over the other thou may'st discover 
what otherwise thou wilt never have an opportunitj' of 
perceiving. 

'■'•Saturday evening. 
" Mr. Timothy Wilberforce : 

" Can Mr. Wilberforce forgive and forget one who 
has injured him too much ? Oh ! how I reproach myself 
for having given you hopes, my friend, that can never be 
realized ! Mr. Wilberforce, you must forget me ; and oh I 
can you not attribute my strange conduct to my youth % 
I am so yoang and thoughtless. Indeed, I would not 
willingly give you pain. Can we not continue friends ? 
I hope we may; but indeed you m.ust forget the promises 
I have made you, and, if possible, forgive me. I find I 
do not love you as 1 ought. Let us be friends, but no- 
thing more. Mary." 

Tim had seen his mother watching his countenance 
while he was reading. So, putting on a smile, " Is that 



484 cupid's sports. 

all? Pshaw ! I thougbt it was something important." Go- 
ing to the outer door : " Harry, there is no occasion to 
wait ; no answer is necessary." Slam went the door. The 
bolt rang with a double turn. The letter was wadded in 
his breeches' pocket. " Who was that letter from, Tim ?" 
said his mother. " A young friend has asked me to go 
serenading with him," replied honest Tim. Down he 
sat, with his feet upon the fender and his arms folded 
over his breast. Tlien seizing the poker — punch, punch, 
punch; you would have sworn it was freezing. Every 
coal was upturned ; the room was filled with dust and 
smoke. "My son, it is not very cold to-night." Tim 
kept stirring the fire. " Did you desire to have the 
old house painted, Tim? If you wish it, my son." 
" Madam ? " " You were saying, Timothy, that you were 
about to tell me something." " Did I ? " Down went 
the poker, and Tim paced the apartment. 

My good friend, were you in such a situation, what 
would you do? Only think of that rap at the door at 
such a moment ; of the contents of that love epistle ; of 
that dear Uncle Harry ! For my part, I shall ever be- 
lieve, as long as I live, that there is something in names, 
and that none but a very old Harry Scratch himself could 
have been charged with such a scrawl. What would you 
have done ? Tell the old lady the whole matter ? ' A¥hat ! 
wdth all those contending, conflicting feelings — passions — 
blasted and utterly destroyed ! As for me, I think a man 
would be almost excusable if he had walked premedita- 
tedly to his razor-case and cut his throat. Tim did no 
such thing. He walked to bed. 

Will you l)e so kind as to explain to me why little 
Mary — our sweet, innocent, flaxen-haired little Molly — 
who was as much in love as ever lassie was, should have 
acted thus strangely ? You who pretend to fathom the 
profundity of human motives, and to ascribe proper causes 



cupid's sports. 485 

for every action, will yon unriddle this enigma ? But the 
day before she was as kind, as affectionate as usual, and 
in every way the same to Tim. From this time forward, 
too, she was as friendly as any other friend, and yet as in- 
different as if their hearts had never beat in unison ; as if 
their eyes had never read the inmost thought of each 
other's soul ; as if their lips — To me and to Tim it is 
utterly inexplicable. Time — old Father Time — flies with 
his mowing-scythe. This is the account the ancients give 
of the matter ; but I have a notion that we should as 
well exclaim. Time — old Doctor Time — flies M'ith his 
healing balm, cicatrizing every wound ; for if it were not 
for Doctor Time, Cupid might be more appropriately re- 
presented with his sickle, gathering in his harvest ; but 
Time with his " balm of Gilead," or some pleasing draught, 
manages to cure many a bleeding heart. I thank thee, 
good doctor; thou hast come "with healing under thy 
wings " more than once to me. 



CUPID'S SPOKTS.— No. II. 

" And is this Cupiil's reahn ? if so, good bye ! 
Cupid and Cupid's votaries I fly; 
No offering to his altar do I bring ; 
No bleeding heart, nor hymeneal ring." 

In tlie third number of the Messenger, my good 
reader, you and I were engaged in taking a peep at Cu- 
pid's sport. Unless you have fallen out with me, (as I 
certainly have not with you,) w^e will again travel to- 
gether, in a half merry, Imlf serious mood, through some 
three or four pages. We shall, perhaps, be forced to 
scramble over hedges matted with brambles, or amble 
along some grassy mead or velvet lawn ; it may be 
" Must pore where babbling waters flow. 
And watch unfolding roses blow." 



486 cupid's sports. 

You no doubt remember in what a sad plight we left 
our young friend Timothy Wilberforce ; how he had 
been gradually led on by Cupid, buoyed up and trans- 
ported till he attained within a step of the pinnacle of 
bliss, and then how the mischief-making god had precipi- 
tated him to the very brink of despair ; how, like Sisy- 
phus, 

" Up the high hill he heav'd the huge round stone ;" 
and how 

" The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, 
Thunder'd impetuous down, and smoked along the ground." 

In fine, he had been caught and caged, manacled, cuff- 
ed, and then kicked, (that's the word,) by our good little, 
sweet little Molly, to his heart's content. Alas ! this 
truly is one of the miseries of human life. Had Tim re- 
ceived a kick from a man, fashioned like himself, he 
mio"ht at least have returned the blow. Had it been be- 
stowed by one fashioned after the manner of the Hough- 
nims, with hock and hoof, or had it been driven full in 
the face by an ass, shod with a double set of irons, he 
misht have consoled himself with the reflection that some 
skilful surgeon could replace the mangled elements, or 
kind nature reproduce a health}'- action. But the impress 
of a damsel's foot upon a generous heart was far more 
diificult to efface. The wound it inflicted had batfled 
through all ages the skill of anatomists, phrenologists, 
and philosophers. Tim, then, could only bewail the 
]u)oelessness of his situation in the mournful strains of 
the gentle Corydon — 

" She is faithless, and I am undone ; 
Ye that witness the woes I endure. 
Let reason instruct you to shun 

What it cannot instruct you to cure." 



cdpid's sports. 487 

These were the first sensations of his softened soul, but 
as time moved on with his unslackened wins;, other 
thoughts unbidden sprung up in his mind. Memory, in- 
deed, for a while continued to brood over " the ills that 
flesh is heir to," but the good Tim, at last, came to the 
same conclusion with the wise McPherson, that 

"■'To cut his throat a brave man scorns, 
So, instead of his throat, he cut — his corns." 

Tim, like all honest bachelors, swore most roundly that 
he would never more be caught by woman's wiles ; that 
she was heartless, faithless, deceitful, and " desperately 
wicked." Alas ! poor Tim knew not the susceptibility 
of his own heart ; and Cupid but smiled to think how 
easily he could hold our hero in magic thraldom. Tim 
indeed cried out in the agony of woe : 

" Have I not had my brain sear'd, heart riven, 
Hopes sapp'd, name blighted, life's life lied away ?" 

But still, blindfold and unconscious, he would find him- 
self worse than ever entangled and ensnared. A ringlet 
tastefully displayed, a soft, melting eye — it might be 
a keen piercing one, it mattered not to him — a dim- 
pled cheek, a laughter-making mouth, were to him more 
attractive than a diamond to a miser, a ship witli her 
canvas swelling to the breeze to the jolly tar, oi-. a well- 
fed steed to a Dutchman's fancy, Tlie very hopes he 
once cherished now nipped and blighted ; his former 
fondness for society, which he now shunned and despised, 
served by the contrast to make him doubly gloomy and 
alone ; — 

"Lone as a solitary cloud, 

A single cloud on a sunny day. 



488 cupid's sports. 

"While all the rest of heaven is clear, 
A frown upon the atmosphere, 
That hath no business to appear. 
When skies are blue, and earth is gaj." 

Feeling so doublj lone, Tim would again seek a partner 
to sympathize in his sori'ows, and to whom could he go? 
To man, cold calculating man ! What is man worth in 
sorrow ? Has he the tender sensibility, the warm-hearted 
sympathy that is ever alive in a female bosom ? If you 
tell him your love-sick tale, he will laugh you to scorn, 
he will frown you down for a puling blockhead; but 
woman will listen to your griefs, will alleviate your 
pains, assuage your sorrow, and if she but smile, Tim 
would exclaim: 

" How she smiled, and I could not but love." 

With feelings such as these, Tim accidentally became ac- 
quainted with " the lass with the auburn curls." These 
accidents occur sometimes so happily and apropos, that 
we are tempted to believe them not merely the result of 
casualty; my own opinion is, that they are all devised, 
planned and executed by that wily urchin Cupid, to bring 
those together upon whom to sport his strange fantastic 
freaks. 

One autumn's eve, when the sun was low, Catharine 
and her cousin, Tony, issued forth to ramble along the 
winding banks of the James Kiver Canal. They were 
admiring the beauty of the scenery, and occasionally 
turning to view the dazzling brilliancy of man}^ of the 
windows of the city, caused by the reflection of the setting 
sun, producing the effect of an illumination, shifting from 
house to house as they changed their position. They had 
progressed along the canal as far as the fiji'St water-fall, 
the situation of which many of my readers will no doubt 
remember; not as it is at present, but as it existed a few 



CUPID s si?OETS. 489 

years ago, before the polishing hand of art had shorn it 
of half its beauties. There is an arch tnrned there, 
spanning the ravine, over whi(;h the canal passes at its 
usual level, and is thus raised, some thirty feet perhaps, 
above the base of the ravine. Under this arch a pellucid 
rivulet gently ripples, till reaching the brink of the de- 
clivity below, it leaps and bounds towards the river. 
Above the sides of tiiis arch the waste water from the 
canal rushed headlong, mingling with the clear waters of 
the rivulet, and dashing foamingly along, or eddying and 
babbling among a rugged bed of granite. On the east 
side of this fall there was once a rock, raised high above 
the rest, by the side of which a little cedar grew, over 
and around whose boughs the wild grape and sweet brier 
intertwined their branches, until they hung a verdant 
canopy above. This place, adorned as it was with its 
native drapery, had obtained the name of " Cupid's 
Cavern," for here many a loving couple, after an even- 
ing's walk, would rest, feasting upon the beauties of the 
surrounding scenery. And here many a tale of love had 
been told, which the roar of the water-fall deafened to 
all but the ears into which they had been whispered. 
On the rock just mentioned, by the side of the cavern, 
Tony and Kate at length seated themselves, and will you 
believe it, Tony was actually endeavoring to persuade his 
coiisin to permit him to call her by a more endearing 
title. Tim, too, had been attracted, by the delicious 
softness of the evening, to gaze upon the same beauties,, 
but had been so absorbed with his own reflections that he 
had scarcely noticed that any one was before him. Here 
he had often walked with his once sweet Molly in the 
days of his happiness ; and altliough he now boasted that 
his heart was free as air, association necessarily brought 
to his mind her whom he wished to banish. He more than 
once repeated : 
31 



490 cupid's sports. 

" Alas ! where with her I have stray'd, 
I could wander with pleasure alone." 
A few yards above the fall I have vainly endeavored 
to describe there was a little bridge across the canal, then 
formed of two logs, each about a foot wide, but with- 
out railing or safeguard of any kind. From its prox- 
imity to " Cupid's Cavern " it might well have been 
termed the "Bridge of Sighs." These logs had been so 
long exposed to the weather, and were so much used and 
worn, as to have become ver}- much decayed and abso- 
lutely dangerous ; still, through mere habit, they were 
daily crossed l\v many, and their dilapidated condition 
was scarcely noticed; one had evidently already par- 
tially given way near the middle, while the other was not 
in a much more sound condition. Upon the end of this 
bridge Tim determined to rest, and while thoughtfully 
musing his eyes fell upon the cousins 1 have described 
seated on the rock below. Reader, I cannot tell you all 
that Tony and Kate said. I wish I could. A word or 
two must suffice. It is not what they said I care about. 
I desire you to look at Kate, and then tell me if yon can 
blame Tim for looking too. " Cousin Kate," said Tony, 
"did you ever feel as if you would choke when you at- 
tempted to speak." This was a plain, common-place 
question, and Catharine might have answered, straight- 
forward, " Yes, Cousin Tony, I have ; " or, " No, Tony, 
I have not ; " or, " I do not know, Coz ; " but, somehow 
or other, girls are strange beings. Catharine said not one 
word, but began to blush. "I have called you cousin,''^ 
said Tony, "long enough, Kate." Here the perspiration 
stood upon Tony's brow, and Kate blushed crimson. 
" Cousin Tony," said Kate, " it is time for us to be return- 
ing home." "Ah, Kate," said Tony, "you know how 
long and how ardently I have loved you; may I not, one 
day, drop that epithet of cousin ? " Tony looked at Kate 



CUPID S SPORTS. 491 

for some reply. " Cousin Tony," said Catharine, summon- 
ing up all her courage, " we can never be more than friends 
and cousins." Then Kate's brow began to cool, but when- 
ever Tony would press the matter, all he saw was new- 
blown blushes, for Kate liad seen that Tim's eyes were 
fastened upon her, and from Tony's eager gaze and man- 
ner she well knew a stranger's suspicions must be aroused. 
Gentle reader, I have told you tlius much of Tony's court- 
ship, that you, as well as Tim, might see a few of Katy's 
blushes. She was as delicately refined in thought and 
sentiment as you can possibly conceive. Her's was 
"A beautiful, transparent skin, 
"Which never hides the blood, yet holds it in ! " 

So soft, and thin, and white that you might perceive each 
pulse as it ebbed and flowed ; indeed, whenever her heart 
"was excited by any sudden emotion, the delicate ruby 
would come and go, till the consciousness of flushing 
would make her doubly crimson. She would endeavor 
to conceal her emotions, 

" But o'er her bright brow flashed a tumult strange, 
And into her clear cheek the blood was brought. 
Blood-red, as sunset summer-clouds, which range 
The verge of heaven." 

Good reader, I hate formal introductions, and therefore 
I have not introduced you formally to my heroine ; but 
since I have let you into the secret that Kate's foible was 
blushing, I must go a little fm'ther : when she did blush 
she had a habit, as if to cool her brow, of parting her 
ringlets, and then carelessly throwing them back. There 
wantonlv huno; 

" Down her white neck, long, floating, auburn curls, 
The least of which w^ould set ten poets raving." 

You are not to consider this a description of Katy's 
person ; when I attempt such a delineation, it will be with 



492 cupid's sports. 

a flourish of trumpets, louder and longer than Joshua 
made when he encompassed the walls of Jericho and blew 
them into fragments. At present you see our Catharine 
in a simple, neat, white dress, which, "like fleecy clouds 
about the moon, played 'round her." All this time Tim, 
that most notorious contemner of beauty, and the man, 
of all others, who could most manfully resist loveliness 
" in any shape, in any mood," sat drinking in these nn- 
conscious exhibitions of Katy's character and mind. He 
saw not Tony, much less did he hear, or imagine, what he 
said. All he perceived was Catharine's face and those 
rich, floating curls. It was, indeed, cruel in Cupid to 
place him there. At every succeeding blush a poisoned 
arrow flew from his silver bow, and Tim's poor heart flut- 
tered in his bosom. Determining for once, however, to 
ont-general Cupid, Tim gallantly resolved upon a hasty 
flight ; accordingly, he took himself acrose the little 
bridge, and began sauntering away on the opposite hill. 

About the same time Catharine again insisted upon 
returning, and Tony, finding all effort at persuasion per- 
fectly hopeless, began to put upon the matter the best 
face he could muster. Taking his cousin's arm, he in- 
sisted she should vary the walk by crossing to the other 
side of the canal and returning to the city in that direc- 
tion. Kate expressed her uneasiness at crossing this 
insecure bridge; but as Tony was importunate, she re- 
luctantly consented, not desiring further to add to his 
mortification by a positive refusal. Tony, as a man of 
gallantry naturally would do, placed Catharine upon the 
soundest of the logs, he himself walking by her side on 
the weaker of the two, not refiecting that the weaker log 
would much more easily bear her weight than his. As 
fate would have it, Catliarine became alarmed by the 
trembling of the bridge and leaned the more heavily 
upon Tony for a support ; and as he was not in a mood 



Cupid's sports. 493 

to care much whether he broke his own neck or not, he 
insisted upon proving to his cousin that the bridge was 
perfectly secure, and that all her fears were totally 
groundless. So taking her by the arm in a careless way, 
and telling her gaily, "Now mind what you are about," 
he raised himself upon his feet several times, so as to 
produce an oscillating motion in the log. At this mo- 
ment Tim had turned about to cast one lingering look, 
mei'ely to inquire with himself what lassie tliat might be, 
when, perceiving the danger that they were in, he shouted 
at the top of his voice, " Take care I " But it was too 
late. Down went the log with a terrible crash, and poor 
Tony and sweet Kate were precipitated into the water 
below, in the middle of the canal, at the deepest point. 
If you have ever seen in the hand of some ruthless 
urchin an innocent bird which he has just succeeded in 
securing from his trap, flurried, gasping, panting with 
fright, you will have a correct idea of Ivaty. She gave 
one shriek as she fell, and then rose almost breathless, 
gasping and panting in an agony of alarm. Luckily, 
the water was not more than waist deep. Tony went 
down feet foremost, following the decayed timbers (pity 
he had not fallen on his head !) ; but Catharine, clinging 
to his arm at the time of the accident, and having her 
support suddenly taken from her, was precipitated at full 
length into tlie water. 

In an instant Tim rushed to the spot. Into the canal 
he went, and catching the terrified Kate in his arms, he 
brought her safely to the shore. Tony did all he could, 
but, poor fellow, he was completely involved among the 
broken fragments, and tliough he strove to rescue Kate, 
it was as much as he could do to extricate himself. Tim 
knew there was no danger of Tony's drowning, and so he 
left him to struggle for himself, giving all his attention 
to Kate, who was truly an object worthy of liis care, and 



494 cupid's sports. 

jet not the less ot" his admiration. She, though thorough- 
ly wet, withal looked so o-rateful, and her countenance 
expressed so many thanks, and her pitiable situation, to- 
gether with the freshness of the water, heightened the 
bloom of her cheek to su(!h a degree that Tim never 
once noticed her dress. Well miirht he have imairined 
her the beauteous goddess Thetis, with her silvery drapery, 
as she issued from her waterv mansion. But when she 
took oft" her fragile bonnet, to adjust her dishevelled hair, 
and he viewed 

" O'er her white forehead the gilt tresses How, 
Like the rays of the snn on a hillock of snow," 

who could have blamed him if he had given way to his 
raptures, and exclaimed : 

'' My heart for a slave to ii'av Venus I've sold, 
And bartered mv freedom for riuirlets of gold." 

As for Tunv, if vou could have seen him as he crept out 
of the water, with his '' long-tailed blue" tapering to a 
point, and dripping like an old rooster under a cart on a 
rainy day, with his head up and his tail down, you really 
would have pitied him ; he knew not which way to look, 
nor what to say. I have seen a dog cauii'ht in the act of 
killing sheep ; have seen a wet rat creeping out of a tub ; 
and I saw the o'av Tonv sneakino; out of the canal after 
having been turned off by his sweetheart, and each of 
these animals, dog, rat, and Tony, had the same identical 
sickly phi/.. The dog slunk to his kennel, the rat crept 
to his hole, bnt Tony was forced to his mistress, who, 
with all imao-inable sweetness, forirave him in an instant. 
He ought, if he could, to have crept into an auger hole, 
and hid himself there for ever. 

However, iinding Tim was an old friend of his, he 
thanked him kindlv for his timelv assistance, and intro- 



oupid's sroKTH. 495 

ducod him to licr, ol ;ill otlici'S, willi wlioiii Tim most de- 
sired some farther Mcc^uaiiitance. In a little time our three 
friendH began to langh the matter over as well they (;oiild, 
and being thoroughly drenched, they endeavored to keep 
each other in countenance on their way homeward. Tiiri 
accompanied Kate to lier door, and then, wishing she 
migiit experience no farther inconvenience from her a(;ci- 
dent, and having received a polite invitation to visit the 
family, retired with Tony to pro(;urc a drier suit. 

My kind reader, you must listen to me with patience ; 
hereafter I will not raml)le so mu(;li at large, but will 
hasten on with my stoi-y. Time's uiagic wing sped on, 
and days and weeks and months rolled by. In tiie mean- 
time Tim continued his visits to Kate. Sometimes at 
an interval of a fortnight; at other times but a week 
would elapse; then this shoi't week began to appear an. 
entire month; iinally, weeks were reduced to days, and 
days to hours, and Tim was not satisfied unless he paid a 
visit twice a day. 

The gossips of the city were thus furnished with a new 
theme to run not with, and 'i'im and Catharine were 
bandied about at a merciless rate. Some thought it pass- 
ing strange, others thougiit it natural enough. "Did you 
hear Mr. Wil])erforce was courting?" said one; "Did you 
know Miss Catharine was engaged?" said another; "Til 
bet my life they will ])c married!" "I know she has 
turned him off!" "She will never have him in the 
world," said a third, "for she is already engaged to her 
cousin, Tony." And thus, Tim was known to be court- 
ing, engaged, turned off and jilted, before he himself had 
ascertained what his fate would be ; but the latter opinion, 
that he was certainly turned off, gained the more cur- 
rency, particularly as our friend was suddenly called off 
by business to a distant city, where he was compelled to 
remain for several months. Tlie busy bodies could not 



496 cupid's sports, 

but notice with wliat a heavy heart lie departed, and 
there could be no possibility of doubt about it. Tim had 
certainly received his walking papers. No matter, friend 
Tim, thou must learn — 

" What it is to admire and to love. 
And to leave lier we love and admire." 

My best wishes attend thee wherever thou goest. 

Most persons would suppose, that after the honest 
denial and the decent ducking Tony had obtained, that 
the ardor of his love would have been somewhat cooled, 
and that he would have been the last person who would 
have ever attempted again to mention love in Catharine's 
presence. Not so Tony. He had been more than once 
rejected already by his cousin; but because they were 
cousins, and Catharine had always treated him kindly, 
Tony was still induced to harbor hope, when almost any 
other person would have only welcomed despair. He 
found it impossible " to look and not to love." He was 
one of those luckless wights who love and are not be- 
loved, and yet cannot bring themselves to give up the 
loved object; who, though driven from the presence of 
their fair ones, continue to cast a lingering look behind, 
to catch a glimpse of relenting compassion. 

He reminded me of the glowing description of Lot's 
wife once given by an humble divine, when he en- 
deavored to explain to his flock why it was that she con- 
tinued to look back as she fled from the ill-fated Sodom. 
" Ah ! my brethren," he said, " no doubt the good woman 
had a pleasant little garden there, filled with all kinds of 
vegetables, and the remembrance of her greens and her 
turnips, her potatoes, tomatoes, her squashes and beans, 
about which she had experienced many moments of 
anxiety and vexation, caused her heart to cling to the 
world, and so from the top of every little knoll, she 



odpid's sports. 497 

looked, and looked ; and there she stands a pillar of salt." 
If Tony but received a look of recognition, it was suffi- 
cient encouragement for him. If he accidentally received 
a civil bow, in return for a gracious smile, he would ima- 
gine himself welcomed to her arms. If he offered his 
hand, and she did not put her arms akimbo and look like 
a very virago, he would return the next morning, and if 
he was again told of friendship merely, Tony would only 
express his astonishment and say, " Why, then, did you 
give me such encouragement? Why did you look in 
that way ? " Look in that way ! JSTow, the fact is, no 
matter which way Catharine might have looked, it would 
have been all the same to Tony. If she looked mild and 
placid, or fierce and acid ; if she had been pensive and 
musing, or laughing and romping ; had she looked out of 
her right eye athwart her nose, or out of her left athwart 
her shoulder, or had she not looked at all, — " like Paddy 
when he shut his eyes to peep in the glass to see how he 
looked when asleep," — Tony would have discovered ample 
cause for indulging in hope in each smile, frown, curl of 
the lip, or play of a muscle. But though continuing in 
the same hopeless condition, he always consoled himself 
by saying, 

"She gaz'd as I slowly withdrew. 
My path I could hardly discern; 
So sweetly she bade me adieu, 

I thought that she bade me return." 

Time still moved onward. And Catharine still attracted 
and received the admiration of all who beheld her. One 
day, as she was seated alone in her parlor, in a somewhat 
melancholy mood, (for it was a rainy, dreary day,) with 
a book in her hand, her back to the door and her head 
leaning against the sash of the window, she began to hum 



498 cupid's sports. 

to herself a little song a friend had lately given her. She 
would sing a line or two and pause, and then again would 
raise her mellow voice, — 

"If he return not, ah ! she said, 
I'll bid adieu to hope to-morrow." 

And this was sung with so much feeling you could 
plainly see her heart had given utterance to its inmost sen- 
timents. Her singing was so sweet, we might truly say, 

" It was the carol of a bird ; 

It ceased, and then it came again, 
The sweetest song ear ever heard." 

The notes, however, died away, and Kate still sat in a 
seeming reverie. When we are fairly in one of these 
musing moods, we will sit for hours without being able 
to tell upon what object our eyes or thoughts have been 
so keenly rivetted. Our senses seemed to be closed 
against ordinary impressions. At any rate, while Catha- 
rine continued thus leaning, some one walked lightly into 
the room, and, discovering he was not noticed, gently 
placed his hands over her eyes without speaking. "Now,. 
cousin Tony," said Kate, " none of your tricks ; I am not 
in a humor for trifling to-day." Tony was not satisfied 
with feeling cousin Katy's eyes, but, turning her head 
gently back, was feasting on the face, which a little vexa- 
tion had slightly ruffled. " I'll pay you for this, Tony," 
she said, in a sprightlier tone ; " I know it is you, so let 
me go." Tony had often played this trick before. " I 
thought, after what had passed," said Kate — and she was 
about saying something harsh, but, checking herself, she 
added, " Never mind, Tony." " Indeed, Kate, it ,is not 
Tony," said the gentleman, releasing his prisoner. 

Reader, have you seen blushes ? Had you been with 
me that day you would have witnessed " smiles playing 



cupid's spokts. 499 

dimples, suffused with blushes, Aurora alone could rival." 
You would have seen surprise and joy chasing away sor- 
row from a pensive brow, and from the " joy sparkling 
in their dark eyes like a gem," you would have sworn 
that these were acknowledoi;ed lovers. 

" Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart 
An instant sunshine through the heart," 

Who do you think could have thus intruded and taken 
such a liberty, other than cousin Tony ? It was our old 
friend, Timothy Wilberforce, returned from his travels. 
Any one of ordinary comprehension, who could have wit- 
nessed this meeting and seen those looks, would have felt 
no hesitation in making affidavit to the fact that Kate had 
not only never rejected Tim, but that they were upon 
pretty reasonahle terms. 

Some of my fair readers, I have no doubt, have already 
determined, if any engagement actually existed, that Tim 
was a cold, plegmatic, inanimate being, or he would have 
kissed at every hazard. I know one young lady who 
jilted a beau because he never offered to salute her ; she 
" had no idea of icicles," not she. And I know another 
who swears, (ladies never swear,) who " vows 'pon honor, 
she would turn off any man under the sun who would 
have the presumption to approach her with such an in- 
tention even." But if the doors were closed, blinds 
drawn, and they were all alone, and she was sure nobody 
could see them, I rather think it would not be quite so 
shocking as some people might imagine. The fact is, 
my dear madam, Tim was excessively remiss on this oc- 
casion ; but he must be excused, because just as he was 
in the very act, with one hand under Ivaty's chin, the 
other at the back of her head, and just as her little lips 
began to crimson, in came Katy's dear old aunty ! I take 
my oath, I would have gone the whole figure, and old 



500 cupid's sports. 

aunt Tabby miglit have gone to the . (I beg pardon.) 

Tim and Kate took it oat in looking, and 

" In the large dark eyes' mutual darted flame," 

enough was said and felt to compensate the loss. 

Now, you must understand, for some cause, I never 
could divine what, aunt Tabby had taken up a mortal 
antipathy to our friend Tim ; indeed, she was his evil 
genius, and she always managed to step in at the very 
moment of all others when her company was least de- 
sired. If he paid a morning visit, and the rest of the 
family kindly dropped off one by one, (each, by the bye, 
making a lame excuse for his or her absence,) just as Tim 
would draw up his chair close alongside, and begin those 
endearments which all know how to use, but few to ex- 
press — 

" The gentle pressure and the thrilling touch, 
The least glance better understood than words " — 

in would pop aunt Tabby, and down she would sit, like a 
cat at a liole, and sit there for hours. Oh ! how Tim's 
heart would sicken. If he made an evening call, and sat 
till all the family retired to repose, good aunt Tabby did 
not think it proper for young ladies to be left alone with 
young gentlemen ; such things were not tolerated in her 
day. Thus did tlie old lady keep her nightly vigils, rat- 
tling away about ten thousand fooleries, and fretting hon- 
est Tim more than a legion of devils ; and at last, after 
vainly spending the evening, the poor fellow would slowly 
depart, growling smothered curses. 

"So turns the lion from the nightly fold. 
Though high in courage, and with hunger bold. 
Long galled by herdsmen, and long vexed by hounds, 
Stiif with fatigue, and fretted sore by wounds; 
The darts fly round him from an hundred hands, 



cupid's sports. 501 

And the red terrors of the blazing brands ; 
'Till late, reluctant, at the dawn of day. 
Soon he departs, and quits the untasted prey." 

Some readers will say, " what difference would it make 
if aunt Tabby was present?" I set all such down as 
utter boobies; for if any one could carry on a courtship, 
or after engagement could carry on a conversation with 
his intended, when the "mother of vinegar" was present 
in the shape of an old maid, and that old maid a sworn 
enem}^, I would unhesitatingly pronounce that Cupid had 
nothinsi: in the world to do with the matter. 

Tim and Kate, however, found opportunities at other 
times to elude even the vigilance of aunt Tabby, and the 
old lady finding matters were going on swimmingly, in 
spite of her interruptions and vigils, only became the 
more determined to break off the match, if it could by 
possibility be accomplished. Tlie dear old lady never 
failed to whisper into Ivaty's ear every idle slander that 
the fertility of her own mind enabled her to invent, or 
that she accidentally picked up among the malicious gos- 
sips of the neighborhood, and more than once Katy's 
faith had been shaken by her plausible inventions. Never- 
theless, as yet, Tim was smoothly gliding on the un- 
ruffled wave of happiness ; all was quiet and calm, and 
but a few days had elapsed since Kate appointed the 
period for the consummation of their nuptials. 

On a former occasion, when Tim and little Molly 
were engaged, my readers will remember how Tim en- 
deavored to break the matter to his mother. How he 
began with a desire to have the old house in which they 
lived newly painted, and how, before they came to the 
conclusion to do so, the matter was suddenly terminated 
by the unlucky intrusion of a small friendly epistle, which 
not only rendered it unnecessary to paint the house, but 
actually caused Tim to kick up more dust and soot than 



502 CUPID S SPORTS. 

could be effaced by the best coat of English lead that 
could be procured. At the present juncture, the first in- 
timation the old ladj had of the matter was afforded her 
by an army of carpenters, bricklayers, stone-masons, and 
painters, scaling her house with scaffolds and ladders, and 
turning the whole concern topsy-turvy, from the garret 
to the cellar. Here ran the painter's devils, rubbing 
•everything with sandpaper; there shouted the bricklayers, 
"mortar! bricks, here!" Here whistled the carpenter, 
and jarred the old timbers with his hammer, banging and 
whacking away with the force of a giant. 

"In the name of common sense," said the old lady, 
"good people, what do you mean ?" If ever you saw a 
hen fluttering when a hawk made a sudden dart at one 
of her brood, you would have some idea of the old lady 
on this memorable occasion. It was as plain as the nose 
on her face that something was to pay, and she half 
suspected what it was ; but that Tim should go to work 
without any consultation was unaccountable, and more 
than that, it was unreasonable. She hollowed for Tim ; 
he was not forthcoming. She asked the carpenter what 
he was about? "Mr. Wilberforce had ordered him to 
mend everything that required mending." She enquired 
of the bricklayer what he was doing ? " Mr. Wilberforce 
had told him to cap the chimnies, relay the hearths and 
mend the whole concern." She asked the painter what 
he meant by all this preparation? "Mr. Wilberforce 
sent him to paint the house all over." "You must have 
made a mistake in the house," said Tim's mother, " No ; 
there was no mistake. It was to be done, and in the best 
style, and in the shortest possible time." The old lady 
packed off the servants in all directions for Tim, and in 
the meantime continued fluttering about, stowing away 
this thing and that thing, into this hole and that cuddy, 
until she had fatigued herself into a perfect fever. At 



cupid's spoEi's. 503 

length Tim arrived. " My dear son," said she, " what in 
the world has got into joii ? Do yon mean to ruin your- 
self, Tim?" "Mother," says Tim, kmdly, "I told you 
I was going to be married." "No you didn't." "Well, 
I tell you so now, and I think our house wants a little 
furbishing." Now, the old lady had frequently of late 
been charging Tim with being in love with Kate, and 
though he never exactly denied it, yet he never had ad- 
mitted it; and though she had no decided objection to 
the match, yet she never had made up her mind to it, 
and, therefore, she seated herself and began to cry. She 
didn't ask Tim who he was to marry ? Where the young 
lady lived ? What she was like ? Whether she had a 
fortune or not? But she sat down as one bereft of all 
hope, and tuned up her pipes. Alas for Tim ! He had 
been too precipitate. Such matters require some intro- 
duction. The truth was, nothing could give the old lady 
so much happiness as to contribute in any way to Tim's 
comfort and felicity, or to know that he was haj^py; but 
then, she and Tim had lived so long together, now that 
he was going to be married, it seemed to her as though 
she and he were to be divorced for ever, and a thousand 
conflicting feelings rushed into her bosom. Tim asked 
his mother if she was dissatisfied with the match ? " No," 
she said, in a tone of inextinguishable grief, and then 
burst forth into fresh weeping. 

Now, gentle reader, I have told you that the painters 
were making terrible preparations for their work, and 
while Tim and his mother were engaged as we have just 
seen — he, endeavoring to soothe the old lady's unreason- 
able and ill-timed grief, and she, exhibiting as much woe 
as she could possibly have done had Tim been wrapped 
in his winding sheet before her, — one of those aforesaid 
daubers kept continually passing in and out at the door, 
until he had heard enough to satisfy him that Tim was 



504 CUPID S SPOKTS. 

going to be married, and that the old lady was most 
vehemently opposed to the match. He had not heard 
her deny her opposition, but he had seen and heard her 
weepings and wailings, which^ convinced him that she 
wonld never consent to the match in the world. So, on 
his way home that day, he happened to meet his cousin 
Patsy Wiggins, and stopped her in the street. 

"Did you know, cousin Patty, that young Mr. Wil- 
berforce is going to be married ?" said Brushy. " But 
I tell you what, it has kicked up a terrible rumpus. I 
just left the old lady breaking her heart about it, and 
poor Mr. Tim is in a peck of troubles." Brushy went his 
way, and so did cousin Patty ; but meeting her dear 
fi-iend. Miss Deborah Dobbins, as she was gossipping 
about the neighborhood : " Ah, my dear Deb," said she, 
" have vou heard the news ? Old Mrs. Wilberforce says 
she will see her son in his grave before she will give her 
consent to his marrying ; and what's more, Miss Catharine 
Turberville shall never darken her doors while her head 
is hot. You may rely upon it, they will have monstrous 
work of it." So off posted the friendly Deborah Dob- 
bins to visit her crony, good Miss Catharine's dear aunt 
Tabby. " Aunt Tabby," said Deb, " I am afraid I have 
bad news to tell you." " What is it, child ?" " I know 
it will distress you to hear it, but Mrs. Wilberforce has 
just heard that her son and your niece are engaged, and 
she has told her son, in tlie most peremptory manner, 
that her family shall never be disgraced by such a con- 
nexion ; that your niece is beneath his notice, and if he 
does not break off the match immediately, he never more 
shall see her face. Now, Mr. Tim swears he will marry 
her in spite of all opposition, and so the whole house is 
in an uproar. If I was Kate, I'd let them know who was 
disgraced." " Beneath them !" said aunt Tabby, turning 
up her nose until it nearly twisted over the back of her 



CUPID 8 SPORTS, 605 

head. "Beneath them, indeed! Darken her doors! 
She disgraced by my niece ! She !" 

Gentle reader, you may readily imagine what else these 
good people said and devised ; but while this tale was 
going the rounds, gathering as it rolled, Tim had entirely 
reconciled his mother to his intended marriage, and as he 
unfolded his little plans for his own and her future com- 
fort, the old lady cheered up and resumed her wonted 
good humor. The next day Tim, as usual, called to see 
his dearest Catharine, but he was told she was not at 
home that morning. In the evening he called again. 
" Miss Catharine was so unwell she had taken to her 
bed." Early the day after Tim called to enquire how 
Catharine was. " Tell Miss Catharine," said Tim, " I 
called to see her, and hope she is better." Tim rambled 
about the lower part of the house. "Miss Catharine 
was not so well." In this way Tim called for several 
days, vainly hoping to see his Kate, or at any rate to re- 
ceive some kind word or message. At last he was hon- 
ored with the following letter : 

" KicHMOND, March 10. 

" I hope Mr. Wilberforce will pardon me for having 
denied myself so often. At first, it was to me as painful 
as it could have been to him ; but if he kuev/ the reason 
which prompted the course I have adopted, he could not 
fail to applaud what he now, no doubt, condemns. In de- 
termining not to see him again, I have consulted, not 
only his peace and the felicity of those dearest to him, 
but, I am convinced, my own happiness also. My reasons 
would satisfy the most scrupulous ; but as I cannot di- 
vulge them, I must bear the scoffs of the world for the 
fickleness and coquetry which my conduct apparently 
justifies. I hope my friend will bear this blow with be- 
coming fortitude. The determination I have made is 
painful to myself, but it is irrevocable. If it vvdll afford 
32 



506 cupid's sports. 

my friend any satisfaction to know that nothing that he 
has said or done has produced this sudden change in my 
purposes, I freely acknowledge the fact. He is in every 
respect worthy of the best and the loveliest. Forgive 
me as freely as I acquit you. Our engagement is termi- 
nated. 

Catharine Turberville. 

Tim sat down, his elbow on the table, his head on his 
hand. 



CUPID'S SPOETS.— No. 3. 

" Sly Cupid, always on new mischiefs bent, 
To the rich field and furrowed tillage went ; 
Like any ploughman toiled the little god. 
His tune he whistled and his wheat he sowed, 
Then sat and laughed." 

Gentle reader, it has been a long time since you and I 
had a nice little jaunt together, and may be you have for- 
gotten me and my friend Tim, whose misfortunes in days 
gone by it was my good fortune to record. If so, you must 
hunt up the first volume of the Messenger^ and refresh 
your memory with the rare sport sly Cupid enjoyed at 
the expense of my hero; yes, hero, for Tim was often 
engaged in battle with Cupid; and though in every en- 
counter he invariably came off second best, or, in other 
words, was whipped, kicked, and cuffed, yet he was ever 
"up to time" and ready for another bout, often even be- 
fore his wounds were properly healed. When I would 
rally him, and ask how it happened that he was " still 
bending under the weight of shouldered Cupid," he would 
look queer and say that he could only answer in the words 
of the poet, — 

" Once on a time, as for my fair, 
A wreath I chanced to twine. 



cupid's sports, 507 

I caught young Love amongst the flowers, 

And ph^nged him in my wine; — 
I phinged him in and drank him up, 

With such delicious glee, 
That now the urchin with his wings 

Is always — tickling me." 

When last we had an interview with Tim the jig was 
up with him. For those of you who cannot procure the 
Messenger, we must again record the fact that Tim had 
just been discarded by his once dear little Katy ; that he 
had just received and perused a sad, sad little note, which 
concluded with the doleful enunciation, " Our engagement 
is terminated," and we left him sitting with " his elbow 
on the table and his head upon his hand." What he said, 
what he did, you who have been in his situation can easily 
conjecture. He was the instrument upon whom the unruly 
tongues of amiable gossips had so fantastically played. 
He and little Katy were the gentle pair whose happiness 
had been marred by the tittle-tattle of those who retailed 
slanders without meaning any harm. 

" Oh ! there's nothing makes me so much grieve, 
As that abominable tittle-tattle, 
Which is the cud eschewed by human cattle." 

Now, gentle reader, you think, no doubt, that when two 
loving hearts have been severed without just cause, that 
it is an easy matter to reconcile their differences and 
bring about a genial glow of love again. You think that 
Love, with his radiant smile, might dissipate such mists; 
you think that two loving hearts that were welded to- 
gether with a flame as white as ever burned on Hymen's 
altar, could not be sundered but by a power as resistless 
as Vulcan's hammer. But in the ups and downs of this 
world's wonders, sometimes 'tis not so ; and so it happened 
to Tim, for do what he would, say what he could, look as 



508 cupid's sports. 

he might, strive as he did, it was all to no purpose, and 
he was forced " to give it up so." 

Something must be done. Tim grew punj, not in 
strength or person, for he rather fattened, but he was 
puny in countenance ; his heart was faint ; there was an 
undefinable, indescribable weakness and lassitude about 
his looks that made men weak who saw him move, " as 
we feel warm in a winter's sun in passing one who weighs 
a ton." The doctor said he wanted air — fresh, country 
air — the springs, the mountains blue, and the freshening 
breeze. It was a pleasant prescription, one that jumped 
with his hnmor ; and Tim bought him a handsome new 
buggy and a sleek, gay steed, a new whip, a new trunk, 
a new suit of black, and altogether looked like a young 
widow emerging from her weeds when the first little bit 
of a white ribbon flaunts jauntily from her head. My 
good young sir, did you ever notice this little symptom ? 
You have. Well, I assure you, "shun danger and fly," 
for there is as much danger under that little bit of a flag 
as ever lurked under the glance of Kate Kearney. 

I have a stor}'- to tell. Do you suppose I intend fol- 
lowing Tim along the road, stopping at this tavern to 
feed his horse, at that one to eat fried bacon and eggs, 
and chickens that the doo;s had run down five minutes 
before and were almost fluttering when thev were served 

O t.' 

in his plate ? Tliere is no sentiment in plain " chicken 
fixings and mutton doings." Cupid has never yet been 
represented by painters or sculptors peeping from a dish 
like the " four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie." 
He lurks among the roses, he is seen among the flowers, 
the dimples are his footprints, and tresses are his bowers. 
Tim set out for the Springs, but he had relations that 
lived under the mountain, and he called to see them on 
his way, and found the old mansion crowded with a bevy 
of cheerful, romping, wicked girls, full of fun and mis- 



Cupid's sports. 509 

chief, wild as gazelles, with hearts free and souls pure. 
Now, good critic, do not ask how girls can be wicked and 
mischievous, and yet have pure souls. I use the terms 
knowingly ; it is no slip of the pen. A wicked girl is one 
who is devilish pretty, and knows it, and knows how to 
jflirt and play the devil with you, and yet can say at the 
same time, in all purity, "get thee behind me, satan." 
She is one with whom that little devil, Cupid, dwells, and 
from whose windows he shoots his most envenomed darts. 
*'Her ringlets so curly, are Cupid's own net." And her 
mischief is so artless and full of fun and pleasantry, that 
jou forget all about Cupid and his wiles; his disguise is 
so complete you are utterly thrown off your guard. 

" His lamp, his bow and quiver laid aside, 
A rustic wallet o'er his shoulders tied." 

You believe you are perfectly safe while you are chat- 
ting witli a little innocent country lassie, when, my dear 
sir, you are under the dominion of the little god who is 
whistling his tune and sowing his wheat ; and if it hap- 
pen to fall upon good, mellow ground, it will spring up 
and bear a glorious harvest, some an hundred, some a 
thousand fold. 

While the girls were wild and mischievous and full of 
frolic, Tim was just the reverse, and possessed not one 
amusing thought in the world ; he was grum, morose, 
sour, pensive, meditative, absent. He had shut himself 
within his shell, and what cared he for girls? He could 

" Laugh at your darts tipped with flaming desire, 
Since his heart, burnt to ashes, was proof against fire." 

But there was one "varmint" of a girl, who didn't 
choose to have any moping, woe-begone faces about her; 
she didn't like people who were " down in the cellar ;" 
she couldn't bear, she said, your psalm-singing, poke-easy, 
good-for-nothing, dumb-founded, sighing sort of beaux — 



510 CUPID S SPORTS. 

she liked a fellow vrho could laugh. She said this not 
to Tim, but at him. She didn't like a groaning Chris- 
tian, one that would roll his eyes to heaven, and twirl 
his thumbs, and say "UmphI ah me I*' when anybody 
smiled. "Xow, Mr. "Wilberforce," she appealed to Tim, 
*' do you ?" and before he could answer, " for my part," 
she said, " I like to laugh " — and she suited the action to 
the word, and laughed very sweetly too. "I like to 
rattle away, and talk to a gentleman that knows how to 
talk ; none of your 'this is very fine weather to-day, miss, 
— this is horrid weather — indeed I think this is a very 
fine day,'" and then she mimicked, most happily, one 
whom all the girls knew very well, seizing a hat and stick, 
and twii-ling the stick, and spinning the hat round upon 
her fino-ers and bowino: verv fantasticallv. "!Xow," she 
said, "I like to cheer a gentleman up," and just as a 
friend of hers was seating himself near her, she pulled 
the chair fi'om under him, and he was cheered up by 
landing at full length on the floor; and then she begged 
his pardon so sincerely and hoped he wasn't hurt — 
wouldn't have hurt him for the world, but the tempta- 
tion was so strong — didn't mean to do it — knew he didn't 
mind it. " Oh, do forgive me ; Mr. Wilberforce, wouldn't 
you?" And so she ran on, sometimes ^vit sparkling, 
sometimes mirth inspiring, all the time, "Ijright eyes 
flashing — tresses waving," and it was impossible not to be 
pleased. 

Xow, gentle reader, I wish I had time to introduce you 
to all these lassies, and to unfold half the tricks and pas- 
times they played. It is a pleasure to recur to these 
scenes. It is delightful to waken thoughts that long have 
slept, and to feel that those whom once we loved " in 
memory bloom again." 

But they brought Tim out ; they rallied him about his 
heart; they told him there was " as good fish in the sea 



ccpid's sports. 511 

as ever came out." And our cheerful Fann}' — that was 
her name — said she had read somewhere that once Cyclops 
was in love, "and you know, Mr. Tim, he was an ugly, 
hideous old fellow — 

' My single eye enormous lids enclose. 
And o'er my blubbered lips projects my nose;'" 

And she pouted out her lips and made her nose almost 
meet her chin, "and even he," she said, "had learned 
love's torments to endure, and calmed the passion which 
he could not cure." Xow she ran on : "I do love to 
make up a match ; I do want so much to see you in love ! 
I have a nice little friend, Mr. Tim, she's ' a lovely bu*d 
with azure wings,' ' an eye of most transparent light,' and 
she can sing ' songs that say a thousand things, and seem 
to say them all for you.'" "ISTow," said Tim, "if you 
go on in this way. Miss Fan, T shall not onl}- fall in love 
with your friend, but with the friend of the friend." 
" Wliat, me ? Lord bless you, lioney — me ? that would 
be funny. Xever had a beau in my life." And she 
pulled her long ringlets down and tied them under 
her chin, and then she gave him such a look out of the 
corner of her eye, and tossed her head and made him a 
low courtesy. " Oh !" she said, " she has black eyes, coal 
black, sparkling; httle tiny foot, just peeping out; grace, 
softness. I know you would love a die-away giid — not a 
romp like me." Kow all this was said with a playfulness 
and an archness and a carelessness that was truly winning. 
Tim did not know what to be about. ISTot to make him- 
self agreeable to one who was so full of mirth and pleas- 
antry, would be to play the part of an ascetic. He did 
not like to be outdone ; " He ought to do, and did his 
best." 

Days ran on — time swif tlj- flew — houi's glided away in 
mii'th, and music, and dancing, and many a gay repartee^ 



512 cupid's sports. 

and many a lively banter had Tim with the wild, the 
witching Fan, and he thought that his heart was un- 
scathed. " To-morrow," he said, "I shall leave you, Miss 
Fan ; I shall expect, some of these days, an introduction 
to your sweet friend." " Come and see me, then ; we'll 
cheer you up," she archly said, " and 

' Strong indeed must be the heart. 
Where love finds no unguarded part.' 

Now, before you, go, Mr. Tim, I am going to sing you a 
song. You and I will be such cronies ; I've taken a 
fancy to you, you know, and I'll say so many kind words 
for you to Bella ;" and down she sat at the piano, and 
poured out her whole soul in a little merry air : 

"My heart's in the Hielands — my heart is not here ; 
My heart's in the Hielands a chasing the deer ; 
A chasing the wild deer, and following the roe — 
My heart's in tlie Hielands wherever I go." 

When a man's heart has been shivered, and he comes 
across one who seems to take a liking to him, and tries 
to mend his heart, and patches it with kindness, and 
soothes him and takes him by the hand and cheers him, 
and whose friendship seems to be without selfish motive, 
and whose society is agreeable, who has a laughing eye 
and a laughing mouth, and withal a sweet voice, 

" Tlie devil hath not in all his quiver's choice 
An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice," 

that man may be safely said to be getting into a quandary. 
Did you ever see a little clond — " a frown upon the at- 
mosphere " — into which all the little fleecy sunlit mists 
of the heavens were rapidly drawn by the presence of the 
electric fluid, congregating into one solid mass, until its 
deep bosom heaved and muttered thunders ? Well, when 



cupid's sports. 513 

jou get in love, you'll feel drawn by a power stronger 
than the fluid, and your bosom will heave, but your mut- 
tering will be as the cooing of a dove. 

Tim went his wav : but the wheat was sown. As he 
rode along, " My heart's in the Hielands " came ringing 
through his ears ; he hummed it, he whistled it, he sang 
it, and then, for variety, he whistled it, he sang it, and 
he hummed it ; and if he had been the happy owner of 
a Jewsharp, he would have Jewsharped it all along the 
road. Tim communed with himself ; he did not believe 
for a moment that he who had " ambled through all 
love's gradations," could be caught by a wild, harum, 
scarum girl ; he thought he could love a quiet, calm, soft, 
tender, sweet, mild little sort of a somebod}^ Ah ! Tim, 
thou knowest not thyself, nor yet the eccentricities of 
love. I've seen a bandy-legged, crooked-shanked, hump- 
backed, hair-lipped, cross-eyed, hard-fisted customer yoked 
to a beautiful gentle little May-flower. I have seen a 
tall Lombardy poplar, lank, lean, cadaverous spindle, with 
a fat, chubby, dumpy, rosy, plump, partridge of a girl 
hanging on to his elbow. I've seen a gay Lothario, with 
form and features that Adonis might have coveted, look- 
ing wistfully in the eyes of a haggard, swarthy old crone. 
There is nothing wonderful in contradictions like this. 
Love seems to sport in eccentricities, and delights in 
bringing antipodes together. 

Now, gentle reader, since w^e have jogged on cosily 
enough, we must introduce you to other scenes. Our 
wild little Fan lived in a rural retreat, far from the noise 
and bustle of the city, which for many years had been 
ornamented by the hand of beauty and of taste. Her 
mother had taken the greatest pleasure (she had been 
gathered to her fathers within a few years gone by,) in 
adorning the approaches to the house with all the gay 
fllowers and evergreens that she could collect, and they 



514 ■ cupid's sports. 

were trimmed and trailed in tasty festoons, and on beau- 
tiful arbors, that at once caught the eye, and made the 
place look like the retreat of the Graces and the Muses ; 
and little Fan had followed the good example set before 
her, and continued to add specimens of rare plants and 
beautiful exotics, which displayed her taste and added 
to the attractions and loveliness of her home. She was 
the idol of her father, who, sorely afflicted with frequent 
attacks of the gout, seemed to cling to her gayety and 
mirth as the life-giving principle of his age. And while 
she frisked and romped like a mettlesome, unbridled steed 
with gay companions, yet she knew how to show him all 
the tender, delicate attentions that soften pain and dis- 
ease, and smooth the brow furrowed with care. Oh ! how 
much those old bachelors, who have tasted the sweets of 

" Some slight, light, hereditary twinges 
Of gout, which rusts aristocratic hinges," 

would give for a soft, little, velvety hand (" molliter ma- 
nus imposait,^^) gently and smoothly gliding along that 
heated, fevered, burning, throbbing, piercing toe ! 

Our friend Fan — we have a right to call her so — had 
been for some time secluded witliout companions, and had 
been confined to her father's bedside, but now he was re- 
covering from his attack, and she had rambled away from 
the house all alone along the public road to catcli the 
fresh air. She had no idea of meeting a human being, 
but she was always neat and jaunty, and this evening she 
was dressed in a glossy black silk, with a little white 
apron and neat little pockets ; in the one w^as a fine cam- 
bric handkerchief, and in the other two ripe peaches she 
had pulled in her walk. I like to be particular. Then, 
instead of rosebuds and flowers, she had culled a few 
sprigs of white clover blossom and a spire or two of grass 
that had gone to seed, and these she had carelessly, you 



CUPID S SPORTS. 515- 

may almost say dashed, into her hair. She was without 
her bonnet, and yet, if she had sat at the glass for an 
hour she could not have disposed them with half the effect. 
I conscientiously believe that Cupid guided her fingers. 
If you or I, sir, had tried from morning till evening, with 
hair-pins and head-pins, and side-combs and tuck-combs,, 
and even with wafers and paste, we couldn't have fixed 
those little love traps to have saved our souls — they 
wouldn't have stayed there witli all the care and pains we 
could have bestowed ; but, sir, she might have tossed her 
head with disdain ; she might have shaken her locks as the 
bird shakes its wing when wet with the gentle spray ; she 
might have spun round and round in the giddy waltz till 
every ringlet, by the centrifugal force, would have been 
as straight as an Indian's, and yet not one clover blossom 
would have stirred from the position she gave it. " There 
are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt 
of in thy philosophy." She had ended her stroll and 
completed her toilet, as we have seen, unwittingly made,, 
when she heard the approach of wheels, and suddenly, at 
a turn in the road, our lucky Tim, who was whistling 
with all his might "My heart's in the Hielands," came 
" full but," '■''plenum sedy'' right alongside of those same 
clover blossoms. 

Tim didn't know that he was so near Miss Fan's abode ;. 
he was seeking the house, no doubt ; he had been enquir- 
ing the road and been told it was full five miles off, and 
he was not prepared for the meeting. But then she met 
him so kindly. Didn't he intend coming in ? And she 
enquired of him in the same vein that Scott knew, so well 
how to describe. "And whaur hae ye been, and what hae 
ye been a doin', and what for didna ye write till us." 
And Tim said she looked so well and put him in mind of 
old friends. And she said, "Now don't fall in love with 



516 cdpid's sports. 

me, Mr. Wilberforce — I wont allow it — I'm saving you 
for another." 

Tim took her up in the bnggy — and she shook him by 
the hand again. " 'Pon honor, you've unproved," she 
said. " You don't look so moping. When I first saw 
you I thought you were a parson. Haven't I changed ? 
I've become quite ugly. I used to think that I could 
give a little glance " — and she looked at Tim full in the 
eye — (there w\as a heartquake) — " but now my eye has 
lost its power." They reached the house, and she ushered 
Tim in. She ran into the next room, and in an instant she 
came back with a silver waiter in her hand, with a single 
glass of wine and bit of sponge cake. She made him a 
courtesy. "Ain't I a nice little waiting maid ? I told 
you I'd treat you kindly if you came to see me. I am so 
glad to see you." She ran her hand into her little pocket 
and gave him the peaches she had culled. " T pulled them 
to give to my beau," she said. "Don't be flattering 
yourself, though, that I meaut you," — and away she went, 
leaving Tim, as she said, to look at the pictures. 

Tim was in a flutter. The whole affair had come upon 
him so suddenly. Here was he in this lovely place, with 
nobody but himself and little Fan — all her friends gone, 
father sick ; he didn't know whether it was proper for 
him to remain, and he began to be alarmed 

" With feelings of strange tumult and soft pain." 

He said to himself he would pursue his journey; but he 
didn't. And here she comes again, — 

'"Her eye its sun-like radiance flings 

Beneath her dark, o'ershadowing tresses." 

" I am so sorry, Mr. Wilberforce, my papa is not able 
to see you. He is just recovering from the gout, and 
^ays I must entertain you ; and you know how I can do 



CUPID S SPOKTS. 5 IT 

it. "We can have such a snug little tete-a-tete. Pa says 
that he is nothing but an old weed, that hath no business 
to grow among the corn ; but I laughingly tell liim we 
often see in the same land, 

'Poor weeds, rich corn, gay flowers together stand,' 

and you know he thinks I'm a very daisy, but the beaux 
call me a coquette — me ! — innocent me !" And she looked 
artlessly at Tim, and half -winked her eye — 'twas not a 
full wink ; if it had been it would not have been worth a 
fig. 

Now, gentle reader, can you imagine a young gentle- 
man in a more dangerous situation than this ? Even the 
most stubborn and determinedly stiff may be made under 
such circumstances "to bend his knee to Love, and make 
obeisance at his mighty shrine." But Tim, as you know, 
was a susceptible gentleman ; he had soft places in his 
heart, and Cupid knew how to come at them. Oh ! how 
many sweet things that girl did say that evening ! And 
there was such a frankness and such a genuine friendship 
about her sayings. And they sat down by a little round 
table, with two bright silver candlesticks, and she handed 
him the " Poets of tlie Ancients," and they read together 
out of the same book, or rather he read to her and she 
looked on, and sometimes he would, and sometimes she 
would, and sometimes both would turn over the leaf; and 
then their hands would touch, and Tim would feel the 
force of the poet's exclamation, 

" One touch, and all thy strength is gone." 

And while he was reading, it was strange to notice how 
many lines seem to have been written expressly for Tim. 
The poet said, — 

" Earth holds no other like to thee, 
Or if it doth, in vain for me." 



518 CUPID S SPOKTS. 

Tim looked her full in the face, and the blood tingled 
in his cheek. She did not look down nor blush in turn, 
but she laughingly said, " That's very prettily said by the 
poet. The first time you get a fair chance, Mr. Tim, you 
say it to your sweetheart. 'T would produce quite a flut- 
ter, wouldn't it ? If some folks that I know were sitting 
like you and I, and reading all about love and darts and 
heai'ts, and were to come spang up to two such lines, 
they'd grow a little pale, wouldn't they ? " Tim's brow 
cooled down. He shut the book and mused. 

" Why, now," she said, " how you look like that same 
old parson- — moping, woe-begone." And taking the book, 
she opened it at haphazard and read away, — 

"He who defers the w^ork from day to day, 
Does on a river's brink expecting stay. 
Till the whole stream that stopp'd him shall be gone." 

Kow, wouldn't that be pretty for me to say to my 
sweetheart, if I had one, to spur him on ? But nobody 
ever came a-courting me. We live away off here in the 
country; you town gentlemen don't care for country 
lassies. Oh ! I know you do" — laying the stress on the 
yoxi. "You like me amazingly; but I'm talking of 
loversP 

Good reader, I had no stenographer that evening, else 
you should have the whole of it ; but of what avail would 
it be unless Hogarth or Cruikshank had been there too, 
and could have caught the manner. Every look was a 
new mesh in that net that Cupid wove then and there. 
And she had a harp upon which she discoursed gentle 
music when the conversation might have flagged. But 
what was the use of harps in a place like this ? 

" There's music in the sighing of a reed ; 
There's music in the gushing of a rill; 
There's music in all things, if men had ears." 



cupid's sports. 519 

After playing for some time, she suddenly jumped 
from the harp, and running backwards to the door she 
kissed her hand, and taking the tips of her apron between 
her finger and thumb she courtesied low, and saying, 
" May balmy sleep attend you," ran out of the room. 

In a short time Tim was ushered to his chamber for 
the night. Have you ever seen a young rabbit turned 
loose into a room for tlie first time by itself ? If ever 
you should see one, you will have a full idea of Tim's 
actions. I am an observer of nature and study her ways. 
You must study them too. This was a lady's apartment; 
there was no mistake about that. Tim thought the sexton 
had showed him into the wrong pew. There was a rose- 
wood wardrobe, carved most beautifully and polished most 
highl}^ ; a dressing-table of the same wood, with a white 
marble top, sm-mounted by a mirror which hid every 
wrinkle and smoothed the brow ; and on the marble sat 
vases freshly filled with rose-buds of every shade and 
hue, and a little white satin pincushion filled with tiny 
pins, and fanciful cut-glass bottles of real Farina cologne 
and perfumes of Araby ; and there was a French rose- 
wood bedstead, over which, from a gilt ring fastened in 
the ceiling, hung a canopy covered with an open net cur- 
tain lined with pink and fringed with a richly-worked 
border looped at the four corners with a pink bow: and 
downy pillows with frilled edges, and snow-white linen 
sheets. And there was a Bible and a Prayer-Book with 
purple velvet covers clasped and tipped with gold. And 
there was a little book of poems — 'twas lying on a chair, 
and between its leaves was a fresh leaf of rose geranium, 
and on the page the lines were marked, 

" 'Tis all too late — thott ivert — thou art 
The cherished madness of my heart." 

Tim wanted to get out of this apartment; he would 



520 cupid's spoets. 

have preferred a soft plank in a barn. He desired to 
ring for the servant, but he saw no bell. There were 
two doors : the one at which he entered, the other which 
led he knew not whither. He wished to peep through 
the key-hole, but he didn't. 

Reader, he put out the light, and then himself he put 
to bed, and tossed — not slept, and hoped, (and yet he 
hardly would admit he was in love,) and hoped — 

" For Hope's fond tongue 
Can dupe the old as it has duped the young." 



CUPID'S SPORTS.— No. 4. 

" Why, foolish painter, give those wings to love? 
Love is not light, as my sad heart can prove; 
Love hath no wings, or none that I can see ; 
If he can fly, oh ! bid him fly from me !" 

My good friend, we were conversing cosily together 
about Mr. Timothy Wilberforce and his love scrapes. 
We left him, if not on a bed of roses, at least in that 
half-dreamy pleasant state of hope which lures on inno- 
cent young gentlemen into entangling difficulties, from 
which few escape with sound hearts. We left him just 
peeping into that beautiful kaleidoscope of love wliich 
maketh all things fond and fair, "one rainbow of the 
air." But yet he was in a state of uncertainty — a sort of 
betwixity and betweenity, which, to say the least of it, 
was not altogether pleasant. He felt as if there was a 
connecting link just forged between himself and another, 
w^iich "bound like steel about his heart for ever;" and 
we happen to know that at this interesting period of his 
life, he could have been led and turned by a single hair, 
if the end of that hair had been held between the fore- 
finger and thumb of our fascinating little Fanny. He 



cfpid's sports. 521 

had reached the sighing state, when one sighs and feels 
no pain — 

"And oft he deeply sighed, 
And wished to travel on." 

Little Fan on this eventful morning was up with the 
lark; she bestowed umisual care at her toilet, and yet her 
dress was simplicity itself: it was plain to see that she 
was in a killing mood — not exactly designing to per- 
petrate premeditated murder, but every arrow was as- 
signed its proper place in her dangerous quiver. 

A white robe, with a pink ribbon around the waist, its 
unwrinkled ends streaming towards her feet, was her sim- 
ple attire. Upon her hair was loosely laid a pure white 
silken net, which left her tresses free to wave and sw^ell. 
And oh ! she had a beaming, joyous face, " an' lips o' 
drapping hinnie " — 

" She was fresh as the spring, and sweet as Aurora, 
When birds mount and sing, bidding day good morrow," 

And 

" Love 'midst her locks did play. 

And wantoned in her e'en." 

Now, what chance would a susceptible young gentle- 
man have to escape from a battery like this ? 

Talk of batteries to mow down serried ranks. Here 
was one which picked off single men with unerring aim. 

Timhad on his " tothers " too ; but what are " tothers " 
on a man, compared with "the might, the majesty of 
loveliness ?" He had early left his downy pillow, and 
was strolling among the flowers, seeking an offering meet 
for her whom his fancy began to paint as altogether 
fascinating. He thought the speaking rose "a token fit 
to tell of things that words can ne'er disclose," so he 
pnlled a half-blown blush, a bnd that seemed instinct 
with life, for love in its bosom sported and ruffled up the 
33 



522 cupid's sports. 

leaves. As he plucked it from the bush, he heard a little 
bell tingle (it was the tirst breakfast bell), and even this 
caused his heart to flutter, for he had once more to face 
that "laughing mou'." As soon as he entered the door, 
our Fan came running to him bearing a silver tankard, 
frosted on the outside as white as snow, and crowned 
with fresh and fragrant mint. 

"Good morning; I've been waiting for you," she said, 
"I was afraid my julep would all be spoiled. You see I 
know how to brew a julep. Ain't it nice ? Some of my 
friends tell me this is the way I make my arrows tell, but 
you know, Mr. Tim, I don't keep arrows for friends." 

"Ah!" said Tim, "how bright you look this morning; 
arrows, or darts, or what not, you make one love you 
whether he will or no." (She curtesied to the floor.) 
He sipped, and then he took a deeper pull, and it seemed 
to him that the sparks flew around her like those that 
vulcan sports when he strikes his heavy hammer on the 
whitened metal from his heated forge. Ah ! Tim, thou 
art gone. I would not give a solitary fig for such as 
you— 

" The courteous redbreast, he 
With leaves will cover thee. 
And sing thy elegy. 

With doleful voice." 

*' Ah !" she said, " you've pulled a rose, I see. I knew 
you'd bring me one ; 'twas all I wanted to set my cap. 
Somebody will be coming by-and-by. You know there 
is ' no goose so grey ;' " and then she laughed and placed 
the bud, not in her cap, but next her heart. Now, my 
gentle young lass, this thing of catching a bird is a 
science, not to be learned at universities. No. It is not 
written in books. 'Tis a gift. All birds are not caught 
with the same bait, nor with the same kind of snare. 



Cupid's sports. 523 

"Mr. Wilberforce, do you know anything about 
Flora's language?" 

"I only know," he said, "that bud is like you, Miss 
Fan." 

"Take care how you give young ladies rose-buds; 
couleur de rose, half-blown, means love. I'm not taking 
it to myself; I'm only warning you. A friend of mine 
(she rattled away so fast Tim had no chance to e^lge in a 
soft word), once had a beau, who had gotten to the des- 
perate point — ready to take the leap ; but he was afraid 
to jump, you know, and he would sit for hours and never 
say a w^ord, but look books, and as she didn't care much 
for shut up books, she gave him a plate of crackers, and 
told him to amuse himself whilst she went about her 
business. 

" Now, if it had been me, I would have brought a 
bouquet of flowers, and laid down Flora's dictionary by 
his side, and would have taught him the ' science ' like 
these boxers," (and she rolled her arms and fists one over 
the other) ; " I would have been dumb too, and we two 
dumb people would have opened our hearts, and he could 
have said yes, and I could have said no, and there the 
matter would have ended without half the time and 
trouble. Would not it have been funny ?" 

" Indeed," said Tim, " there would be no occasion for 
language, for — - 

" Why should feeling ever speak. 
When thou canst breathe her soul so well." 

Thus matters were proceeding very naturally, " wery," 
when the door opened, and old uncle Tom, the house- 
servant, with his best bow, said, "Missis, breakfast, 
ma'am." Somehow or other, it always happens so. Just 
in the very nick of time, when the blood is mounting up, 
and Cupid has his arrow's notch upon the tightened 



524 CUPID S SPORTS. 



string. "What did Tim care for breakfast ? Now, good 
sir, I have nothing to do with the eatables that were 
served on that table. Everything was as nice as nice 
conld be — sumptuous, abundant, elegant. But here was 
a situation that was " oncomfortable." A good-sized 
table, with one seat at the head and another at the foot, 
and nobody but two young people to occupy them, and 
this, too, for the first time ; and there, standing off, with 
a waiter under his arm, and looking respectful and dis- 
tant, old uncle Tom, with eyes open, ears cocked. It 
looked odd and felt awkward. All you young married 
people who, when the bustle of the honeymoon is over, 
go quietly to your own homes, and sit down calmly " all 
aloney" at a breakfast table, know how it feels. What 
must it have been with a young lady and a young gentle- 
man, where something more than a julep is brewing. It 
looks "onnatural," and would make anybody feel "on- 
easy." Talk about roses and Flora's soft whispers before 
uncle Tom ? Cupid, under such circumstances, would 
place his finger on his mouth, and between his teeth hiss 
" She-e-e-e." 

"Love's bondage is strong, but 'tis delicate too. 
And hearts that are fondest are soonest afraid ; 
Love shrinks from the gaze like a bird from our view 
That sings the night long in the depths of the shade.'^ 

Tim tried to be easy, and he thought he would throw 
uncle Tom at least off the track. So he said gaily, 
" What has become of your cousin Bella, Miss Fan ? 
,Tou promised her, you know, to me." 

" Yes, and I promised you to her, and you will be 
bound to ratify my promises." 

" No doubt," said Tim, " I shall have to say, — 

" Oh ! how Bella is my puella ! 
I'll kiss her secida seculoruin ; 



cupid's sports. 525 

If I have luck, sir, she's mj uxor, — 
Oh ! dies Jjenedictoruiinr 

And as he said this he gave her a glance of the eye, 
which said, "You know I don't care for anybody but 
you," and which glance knowing little lassies compre- 
hend full as well as the most choice expressions of the 
tongue. 

"What bids the soul the emotion declare 
By the glance of an eye when the lips do not dare? 
'Tis love — 'tis love in the heart." 

My good friend, we have dwelt long enough upon this 
breakfast; we must hurry on. We were forced to look 
in upon this scene, simply to ascertain how matters pro- 
gressed. Cupid, you know, is no gourmand; the little 
god is contented with sipping the honey-dew, enjoying 
the dainties of soft looks, gentle sighs and whispers, and 
occasionally relieving the soft pains of his breast by 
" stealing an ambrosial kiss." And all his devotees fol- 
low closely his example. Indeed, we have known it not 
unfrequently to happen that young gentlemen who were 
desperately smitten would feel qualmish at the very sight 
■of provisions. As for young ladies between fifteen and 
eighteen years of age, they were never known to eat at 
all. These are strange disclosures, but they are never- 
theless true. 

My friend, in this little drama enacting before you 
there is no necessity to introduce a scene-shifter to pull 
aside any of the illusions which assist the fancy in the- 
atrical representations. With the aid of your imagination, 
we pass at once to other scenes which occurred in that 
beautiful retreat, into which Cupid managed to inveigle 
our luckless Tim. 

Sterne, in his inimitable character of uncle Toby, when 
he wished to depict the dangerous position in which my 



526 cupid's sports. 

uncle was placed in his love affair with the widow Wad- 
man, induces the widow to request uncle Toby to look 
into her eye for a mote that she professed had unfortu- 
nately afforded her pain. Each one of us feels at once 
the criticality of the situation. And auld Robbie Burns, * 
old Scotia's sweetest bard, describes his own feelings to- 
wards his sweetheart with a pen of light when he says : 
"Indeed, I did not know myself why I liked so much to 
loiter behind with her when returning in the evening 
from our lal)ors ; why the tones of her voice made my 
heart-strings thrill like an ^Eolian harp ; and particularly 
why my pulse beat such a furious ratan when I looked 
and fingered over her little hand to pick out the cruel 
nettle-stings and thistles." We find our friend Tim oc- 
cupied precisely in a similar way. 

" Oh ! Mr. Wilberforce, do pick this brier from my 
finger," and so they were seated close together, with her 
right hand in Tim's left, and he was most delicately en- 
deavoring to remove a very small thorn from her middle 
finger with a fine cambric needle. Tim would have given, 
not the world, that's too much, but he would have said, 
" I'd give the world just to press her little finger between 
my finger and thumb ;" and he had been racking his brain 
for all manner of excuses to obtain that little finger in 
that improper position. But all at once, in the most 
friendly, kind way imaginable, without the least effort, 
the whole hand was laid most confidingly in his. " Pillse 
beat such a furious ratan ! Heart strings thrill like an 
^olian harp !" I tell you, madam, if you never felt any 
thing of this kind, you have never been on an anxious 
bench, and have no right to give in your experience. 
And when she would wince, as the needle would touch 
the brier, don't everybody know that Tim felt the im- 
agined pain keener than she the actual pang ? And 
when at last the brier was removed, how does it happen 



clpid's spokts. 527 

that the band was still retained in Tim's ? These are 
questions which the disciples of Mesmer may answer. 
All we know about the matter is, that while that hand 
lay with its open palm upon the open palm of Tim's, and 
his rig:ht band gently retained it with a soft kind of a 
mild pressure, and it was not withdrawn, " tlie minutes 
winged their w^ay wi' pleasure." 

" Miss Fan," he began, " do you know I had no busi- 
ness to come here ?" 

" Not come here ! Not come to see a friend ! Why 
not come here ? A little while ago I was talking to 
papa ; you don't know wdiat a friend he is of yours. He 
said he didn't know you, but your father and he were 
old cronies, and if you were half as good as the old fel- 
low, you were welcome here. ' Tell him,' he said, ' I'll 
tr}"- to hobble down by-and-by, and see if he's like the old 
man.' Do you know," she added, " that papa has been 
lecturing me this morning ? lie says he has but one 
fault to find of me, and that is, I'm a coquette. Coquette, 
because my heart is not frozen cold. Coquette, because 
I treat people as kind as I know liow ; as if it would be 
right for me to imagine gentlemen came a courting me 
before they told me so." 

" Ah, but, Miss Fan, you can tell what a gentleman 
means by his looks. Cupid is painted blind, but you 
know he has eyes — 

" ' In one soft look what lano;uao;e lies ! 
Oh ! yes, believe me, love has eyes.' 

"Why does the poet say, (poets know something about 
love) — 

'"'Turn away thine eyes of love, 
Lest I die with pleasure.' " 

" Oh ! yes, I know you men ; you can quote j)oetry 



528 cupid's sports. 

about love, and look very die-away when there is not a 
particle of love in your composition. I can quote poetry, 
too," she said. 

" ' Love's wing and the peacock's are nearly alike, 
They are both of them bright, but they're changeable too; 
And where'er a new beam of beauty can strike, 
It will tincture love's plume with a different hue !' 

You will profess to be caught by every new beam; but 
you are as changeable as the breeze." 

Tim was in the act of making a full declaration ; he 
had it on the tip of his tongue; liis heart was full; his 
hand was full too, he was playing with that little linger; 
but he checked himself in mid volley ; he thought he was 
too precipitate, and yet the opportunity kept coming. 
He only said " You, Miss Fan, have learned how to eatch 
and fix the beams." 

"Oh!" she said, "its been my lot always to make dis- 
cord." 

"Then" said Tim, 

"'Let love but gently touch the strings, 
'Twill all be sweet a2;ain.'" 

"Ah! but Mr. Tim, I must first have somebody to 
love. 'Twon't do for little lassies like me to set sail by 
myself. I must have a pilot," and she laughed, and then 
she looked sad, and said, " I don't think I shall ever have 
a chance. We friends can talk it all over, but I'm 
doomed." 

"Suppose," said Tim, "I was to say you have a chance 



now." 



At this interesting point, as the tellers of nursery tales 
would say, Tramp ! tramp ! tramp ! they both heard most 
distinctly that peculiar sound which indicates the ap- 
proach of one hobbling with great difiiculty upon 



.Cupid's sports. 529 

crutches, coming closer and closer ; Tramp ! tramp ! 
tramp! Tim had concentrated into his eye-balls every 
particle of a heart that he had this side the grave, but as 
the last tramp was evidently at the knob of the door, that 
little hand gently withdrew itself from the effort that had 
been made to extract a brier, and the eye-ball of our 
friend sank fifty degrees in the scale of the thermometer 
of love in an instant. The peacock looked down upon 
the ground, and seeing his feet, that beautiful fan was 
speedily closed. 

" Oh ! my papa V she said, running towards him as the 
door opened, "here is Mr. Wilberforce." And so the 
old gentleman hobl)led up to Tim, and welcomed him to 
his country home, told him how long he had been con- 
fined with the gout, the very mention of which almost 
gav« him a twinge; asked him how he and his little Fan 
had got along together; said she was a little vixen of a 
coquette, and abused her most roundly, but showed 
beneath all the abuse, that she was the very apple of his 
eye. And when she would rattle on, as she did before 
him, of the agreeable time she had spent, and how de- 
lighted she was to see somebody in that secluded gloomy 
spot ; how thankful she was when an old friend, like Mr. 
Wilberforce, came to see them, and begged tliat he would 
cheer up her father by giving him an account of wliat 
was going on in the world while she attended to her 
household arrangements, the old man's eyes would sparkle, 
and he abused her but the more. 

It was an uphill conversation with Tim; he had not re- 
covered from the revulsion of feeling which had sent the 
blood which was boilinij; in his veins back to the heart 
with too sudden a gush. He tried to rally, but in vain. 
The old man talked of counti-y life, of crops, of corn, of 
wheat, of tobacco, of hay, of oats, and cracked of " horses, 
ploughs and kye;" talked of dogs, and guns, and birds, 



530 cupid's sports. 

and longed to be able to enjoy these things as once he 
had done; talked of the friends of his boyhood, and tlie 
good old times when Tim's father and he were at col- 
lege together; said, "old times were gone, old manners 
changed ;" that the men were different, the women not 
half as handsome, — nothing like his Jenny when he first 
went a courting. Ah ! she was tlie lass with the raven 
locks ! and he seemed almost to be getting young again ; 
and until he touched this last string, he found no sympa- 
thy in Tim, but he wakened up and argued manfully for 
the lassies of the present day. 

How different wears the day when young hearts throb- 
bing w'ith love and emotion, and feelings refined by purest 
thoughts, are breathing in each other's ears "the tender 
tale," and are mutually giving and receiving "looks and 
tones that dart an instant sunshine through the heart." 
Old Burns says: 

"If heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, 

One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair. 

In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, 
Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale." 

JS^ow, my good madam, you know from experience how 
provoking are these interruptions to the progress of love. 
I have re(;orded this one unconsciously interposed by the 
good father of little Fan merely to warn young people 
against impatience under the infiiction ; these contre temps 
will happen. If you bolt and doubly lock the door, just 
at the critical moment when you have said enough to 
commit you irretrievably, and before you have obtained 
an answer affirmatively or negatively, somebody will 
rattle at the knob, and though they find it locked and 
barred, entry will be demanded with a pertinacity that 
will not be denied. The best plan is to leave the door 



Cupid's sports. 531 

wide open. If ever you try to get rid even of a child 
under sucli circumstances, martyrdom would be suffered 
before it would evacuate the premises. I have seen 
young ladies try it, and I have found even their inventive 
faculties, that scarcely ever are at fault, to remove ob- 
stacles unnecessarily interposed in such matters, wholly 
baffled. The only animal I ever heard of whose pi-e- 
sence advanced a courtship was a favorite cat. When 
the gentleman said, "Pussy, may I have your mistress?" 
the lady answered, " Pussy, say yes." 

Again, we must imagine the old gentleman fatigued 
with the effort he had made ; fatigued with talking, seek- 
ing his chamber, lolling listlessly in his cushioned chair, 
with his foot upon a pillow, satisfied with the recon- 
noisance, and composing himself to rest. Imagine a 
young lady, anxious to appear a good manager, superin- 
tending in private the making of cake, of ices and blanc- 
mange for her dessert, and giving directions for a neat 
and abundant dinner; imagine a young gentleman upon 
the tenter hooks of love, no longer doubting, but walk- 
ing to and fro, conning over a set speech, how he should 
bring about a full development of his heart, and secure a. 
favorable result. 

Now, according to our limited experience in courtship, 
we never knew a conned and planned speech to be of the 
least use ; it won't fit ; cut it and trim it as you may, it 
will not come in. We advise young gentlemen, there- 
fore, to extemporise it, and trust to chance. It will not 
answer in love matters to commence at a subsequent meet- 
ing precisely where you left off at a previous one. When 
Tim was interrupted, he had just said, " Suppose I was 
to say you have a chance now ?" It would never do to 
begin there. The foundation must be laid anew ; it is 
like little doves in building their nests, every time new 
straws are picked up and carefully brought together.. 



532 cupid's sports. 

One brings the straws, yoii know, and the other fixes 
them. There is nothing solid in what Cupid or his vo- 
taries say — all are flimsy straws. But they answer the 
purpose. 

The candles were lit, the little round table at which 
they sat the first evening was again the centre of attrac- 
tion, and we find our two friends sitting again close to- 
gether, looking over a beautiful annual, " The Flowers 
of Loveliness." The engravings were most delicate, and 
the fiowers were represented by female figures, beautifully 
and tastefully arranged. They read the poetry together, — 
who cares a fig for prose when love has wakened a new 
life in his soul ? And as they read, they 

" Took in sounds, that might create a soul 
Under the ribs of death." 

When two young people are examining pictures to- 
gether, how close their heads approach ! you not only 
hear the breathing, but you feel the breath. " Mr. Wil- 
berforce," she said, '' do you know I always loved to have 
somebody to read to me ! And if that somebody is a 
friend, how pleasant it is !" " And," said Tim, " if the 
somebody is a lover, it would no doubt be more pleasant 
still!" 

" That depends on circumstances ; I've seen lovers, 
Mr. Wilberforce, that were not very lovable ; but a 
friend that reads well almost makes a body love him." 

" Do you know, Miss Fan, I love to have somebody sing 
to me ! A little song you sang just before we parted the 
last time we were together rang in my ears a long time."' 

" Oh," she said, " you were singing it in the road yes- 
terday when I met you ; I thought you had forgotten it." 

" Can't you sing another little song, just to revive old 
recollections ?" 

" I promised you," she said, " to sing for you when you 



cdpid's sports. 533. 

came to see me," and she ran to the piano, and played a 
soft symphony that crept along Tim's fibres, and then 
she sang with a touching patlios : 

" Then should music, stealing 
All the soul of feeling. 
To thy heart appealing. 
Draw one tear from thee ; 
Then let memory bring thee 
Strains I used to sing thee; 
Oh ! then remember me." 

And she looked round at Tim, and said again, 

" ' Strains I used to sing thee, oh ! then remember me.' 

" But," said she, '' friends always do that. I heard you 
singing ' My heart's in the Hielands,' and I took it for 
granted some mountain lassie had it." 

" Mountain lassie," said Tim, " you know who has it." 
She took no notice of his remark, but sang the next verse, 
until she reached the last three lines, and then she turned 
to Tim again, and repeated as before : 

" ' Think of her who wove them. 
Her who made thee love them, 
Oh ! then remember me.' " 

" Ah," said Tim, " it is useless to tell me that — 

" ' For thy impression on my mind, 
No time nor power can move ; 
And vain, alas ! the task I find. 
To look and not to love.' " 

And as he said it, he caught her eye, and she saw his- 
heart. 

" Her pure and eloquent blood 
Spake in her cheeks." 



534 cupid's sports. 

" Miss Fan," he said, " will you love me back again ?" 

" Now," she said, " didn't I tell you you must not fall 
in love with me ?" 

" I couldn't help it. Won't you ?" and he took her 
hand. " Can't you ?" She shook her head. 

My good reader, if we keep you sitting here, looking 
on at this scene, you will forget your ordinary avocations. 
They sat a long time, and little Fanny still shook her 
head. Sometimes she would turn round and smile; 
sometimes she would look as if she was in the act of re- 
lenting, but the last we saw of her that night she was 
still shaking her head. 



THE DREAM. 



"BEHOLD, THE DREAMEU COMETH." 



"And there lay visions swift, and sweet, and quaint, 
Each in its thin sheath like a chrysalis; 
Some eager to burst forth, some weak and faint 

With the soft burthen of intensest bliss." — Shelley, 



I 



WAS alone in the dark world ! 
Had lost my wife, and child ! 
A chilling sense of desolation 



Stole o'er my shuddering frame. 
M.y brain was wild with thought — anon my heart stood 
still; 
As when the sudden tempest sweeps 
With rapid wing o'er Ocean's tranquil breast, 
His mighty waves, to frenzy lash'd. 
Sport with the roaring winds. 
And then in sullen majesty sul)side. 

Time waves his magic wand, and grief 
Discards her sombre robes. The Kuler of the winds 
Hath given bounds to woe. A gentle calm 
Came o'er my troubled soul. My heart 

Grew tender as a child's ; 

A simple tale of sorrow 

Would move my breast to pity. 

And melt my eyes in tears. 

My soul had known the charm 
Of sweet communion with a kindred soul — 



536 THE DREAM. 

My heart had felt the throb of one as warm; 
But now there was an aching void within. 
Methought if I could gaze again 
In Beauty's eye, and catch the faintest twinkle there^ 
Of Love's electric spark, each lanquid pulse 
Would thrill with life anew. 

'Twas niffht. I lav, and mused on mortal life. 

My eyes were fixed on vacancy ; 

My mind was dwelling on the past. 

I knew not that I dreamed. 

A little girl was on my knee, 

The image of my child. 

She looked upon my face 

With her soft eye and sweetest smile ! 

Her gentle hands culled ffom my locks 

The silvery hairs a few short years 

Had prematurely sprinkled there; 

And as she pluck'd, she gave them to the breeze. 

I bowed my head to press upon the seraph's lips 

A tender kiss — when, lo ! the vision clianged. 

a 
■ 
Her mother sat beside me, and her arms 

Were locked about my neck. 

She, too, was gazing in my face. 

And in the depths of her mild eyes 
I read, " There's happiness in store for thee." 
And then she smooth'd my furrow'd cheek. 

And made my brow serene. 
She was as well, and looked as sweet 
As she was wont to look before our bridal day, 

When we would sit for hours. 

And drink each other's thoughts, 
And deprecate the chance that broke the spell ; 
I reached my hand to touch her blooming cheek ; 

But oh ! again the vision changed. 



THE DREAM. 537 

My eyes were fix'd upon the lire, 
And in it, there a maiden stood. 

Robed in a dazzling blaze. 

Which wantoned round her form. 
Her features, circled by the whitest flame, 

Expressed a spirit's grace. 

Upon my little daughter's head. 
Who stood beside her, she had fondly tied 
A gipsy bonnet, wove of silk and straw. 

In open lattice work, which seemed 
Of burnished gold the flame had blanch'd. 

And then she gave to me a look 

That kindled all my soul to love; 

But startled by a noise, I turned, 
And there the maiden stood behind my chair. 
She pressed my cheeks with both her hands, 
And printed on my lips a burning kiss. 
I caught her in my arms and held her to my heart ; 
But suddenly a raging flame did burn 

Between and sunder us for ever. 

Another change, another vision came : 

I saw a wide and verdant lawn, 

As thickly set with little yellow flowers 

As the vault of heaven with the gems of night ; 

And by a brook, o'er which a willow flung 

Its cooling shade, a maiden sat, 

And angled in the stream. 
A simple silken band of lemon hue 

Was bound about her head. 
And, neatly fasten'd with a single bow. 
Confined her black and glossy curls. 
Which hung profusely o'er her rosy cheek. 

The hook, without a bait or lure. 

She cast into the stream, and gazed 
34 



538 THE DREAM. 

Intently there. Soon forth there came 
From underneath the bank, close by, 
A timid fish, which seemed to play 
About her shadow with delight; 
But ever as the naked hook it spied, 
'Twould dart aifrighted to its close retreat. 
And then, it seemed that I became that fish, 
And that I shyly played about the hook, 
And longed to see it baited, — with a smile 
Or blush; but while I dallied there, 
A greedy pike with sudden dart 
Did spring upon the barbed point. 
And fluttering, panted by the maiden's side. 

I dreamed 'twas early dawn. 

As up my garden walk I strolled 

The balmy breath of spring 
Infused its healthful spirit through my limbs. 
The morning air was fresh upon my cheek. 

I looked upon the eastern sky, 
Expecting there to see the mellow blush 
That tinges first the wide horizon's verge ; 
But night, her sombre curtains yet undrawn. 

In undisturbed dominion slept. 

The whole pavilion of the sky 

With countless constellations glowed ; 
The morning star, more bright than all the rest, 

A steady gleam of glory shed. 

I turned me to the west. The laws 
Which heretofore had ruled the universe 

Now seemed reversed. The morn, 

Arrayed in robes of light, came forth 

To chase the lingering shadows home. 

And o'er the waning stars to spread 
Her blue ethereal veil. 



THE DREAM. 539 

The sun illumed the west ; his form, too, changed ; 
The dazzling disk, around whose single ring 
Eternal blazes flew, now seemed 
Two burning rings of liquid fire. 
The one encircling half the other's disk; 
As when the moon (jomes o'er the sun in half eclipse, 
And yet, each circle uneclipsed, appeared distinct. 
Then came thin clouds, all silvered o'er with light. 
Which tipp'd their feath'rj wings with crimson and with 
gold : 
They ran from south to north. 
And spread their fleecy veil 
Athwart that double sun ; 
They hid his blinding blaze, 
But left the glory of his disk revealed ; 
. And as that light and transient veil 
Befoi-e the wind was rolled away. 
The double circle glided into one. 

The vision changed ! 
And I was seated by a girl, 
Intentiy gazing on her placid eyes. 
Which, black and glistening as the raven's plume. 
Were cast upon the floor; 
The long and glossy lashes hung 
A f eath'ry screen before their arrowy glance ; 
Her arching brows were shaded well, 
Yet open and serene; 
And jetty ringlets waved upon her polished cheek, 
Thro' which the blood did flush from her young heart; 

And on her ebon hair a simple cap 
Of silken net she wore ; 'twas white with downy fringe. 
Methought her little hand was in my own, 
Yet held so timidly 
That she had not perceived my touch ; 



540 THfi DREAM. 

But as I gazed upon her form, 
The pressiu-e imperceptibly increased, 
Until the blood did mantle in her cheek. 
Then, suddenly, she seized my hand. 

And strove to loose my grasp ; 
But in the act our hands united grew. 
And vows were interchanged. 

A thought, in winged guise. 
Came flitting round and through my brain. 
In antics wild and strange. 
And, whispering softly, said: 
" The mystery of dreams 'tis mine to solve. 
Thy daughter pluck'd thy silvery hairs. 
And gave them to the breeze; 
Thy wife did kindly smooth thy care-worn brow. 
Thus Age and Woe are bid to stay their hands, 

And youth and love to live for thee. 

The maiden in the fire. 

Who fondly deck'd thy daughter. 

Was once beloved by thee, 

And loved thee in return. 
The flames that intervened. 
Were those who interposed and severed sacred vows. 
The maiden angling in the brook, 
Who baited not her hook for thee. 
But caught another flsh, 
Is one for whom thy lonely heart did throb. 
Who might have been thy bride. 
Had not thy faltering spirit failed. 
The stars that glittered in the east 
Were woman's radiant eyes; 
But all their glory brought not day to thee. 
The rosy dawn came blushing in the west; 
Two smis in harmony illumed the sky : 



THE DREAM. 541 

Thy fate and that of some fair "Western maid 
Shall soon, like them, be blended into one. 
The feath'ry clouds that threw a transient veil 
Before their dazzling disks, are but 
The fleeting shades that dim the path of love ; 
For she 'who wore the snow-white net 
Upon her raven hair' will be thy destiny ; 
But when thou wilt be blessed, 
Or where, or who the maiden is, 
I leave for you to learn. 
The world is wide before thee ; go thy way." 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA : 

A LECTUKE, 

Delivered by Invitation of the Hollywood Memorial 
Association, in Richmond, January 18, 1867. 



Ladies and Gentlemen: One of the most difficult 
things to accomplish is the framing of a good toast. To 
make it worthy of note it should be sententious, full of 
meaning, and like the champagne in which it ought to 
be drunk, spirited and buoyant. Of the great number I 
have heard, the only one I will recall was delivered many 
years ago by the great Carolinian. It was "Virginia! 
Like the mother of the Gracchi, when asked for her 
jewels, she points to her sons." This sentiment, rich 
with classic beauty, high compliment and sparkling 
brilliancy, I have adopted as the tlieme of my discourse 
on the present occasion. 

But I have so seldom addressed a public audience, and 
especially of late, that I feel like the aged minstrel : 

"Amid the strings his fingers stray'd. 
And an uncertain warbling made. 
And oft he shook his hoary head." 

If I shall gain his reassured confidence, I may begin to 
" talk anon 

Of good Earl Francis, dead and gone; 
And of Earl Walter, rest him, God ! 
A braver ne'er to battle rode." 

I may make an effort to bring to remembrance the 
great, the good, the wise and the brave of Virginia, who 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 543 

were characterized by the great and good, the wise and 
brave Calhoun as the "jewels" she wears, and to which 
she points with exalted pride as ornaments that have made 
her famous in story, and given her glory and immortality. 
There has been no son of hers of any repute in her 
councils, or the councils of the nation, for the last fifty 
years, that I have not seen and known. I have had op- 
portunity to scan their public actions and writings, their 
persons and lineaments, the character of their minds, the 
intonation of their voice, their style of oratory, their 
modes of thought, the principles they inculcate, the parties 
upon whose altars they poured their incense, the aims and 
objects they had in view. 

But where shall I begin ? Which casket shall I open ? 
Her house is full of them — jaspers, sapphires, chalcedo- 
nies and emeralds. In the quaint language of St. John 
the evangelist, at the close of his gospel, I may say, and 
there are also many things which the great men of Vir- 
ginia have accomplished, " the which, if they should be 
written, every one, I suppose that even the world itself 
could not contain the books that should be written." I 
shall have, then, to pick and to choose, and while I would 
do injustice to none, by omission, I must per force leave 
some of them for some Houdon, in living statuary, to 
perpetuate their fame. And tlien, again, there are thou- 
sands who have never entered her councils, whose charity 
and hospitality, and rare intellects and virtues, have made 
Virginia lovely and of good report, and spread her re- 
nown from pole to pol^ 

Besides the oaks of her forests, there are roses and 
lilies in her vales, and 

" Though large the forest monarch throws 
His leafy shade, 
Yet sweet the juicy hawthorne grows 
Adown the glade." 



544 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

Of all her brilliants, none can compare with her Wash- 
ington, the greatest of all the koh-i-noors of ancient or of 
modern times. Every chisel and every brush has assayed 
to develop his character and actions; every pen endeav- 
ored to describe and beautify both ; every flower and leaf 
have been woven and twined around him ; every heart 
has poured forth its love ; every tongue uttered his name 
with loud acclaim, and all the nations praise him. 1 
name the name of Washington simply because my subject 
is Virginia's jewels, and I could not omit her purest, 
most pellucid, unblemished diamond. 

In the mysterious book of Revelation we read of one 
"'that was, and is not, and yet is;" and this language 
seems to convey a contradiction in terms. But when I 
contemplate the life of Washington, I can understand 
how it may be true ; for he was, and is not, and yet is. 
He lived, he is dead, and yet he lives. We may well 
imagine that his living soul has found a blissful paradise. 
We may well imas^ine that one of the four and twenty 
seats which are round and about the throne of Jehovah 
has been reserved for him, and that he occupies the place 
of one of the four and twenty elders that were clothed 
in white raiment, with crowns of gold upon their heads. 

But, more than tliis, he lives on earth. He endures in 
his precepts, in his writings, in his prophetic warnings, 
in his matchless example, in the institution of learning 
M'hich he endowed, and to which the fame of the second 
Washington, now at its head, has given a new attractive 
force; by which the minds that will be enlightened there 
will enlighten others, and so on, wave upon wave extend- 
ing and enlarging through endless ages. And besides, 
we have a living witness in the person of Governor Wise, 
(another of Virginia's jewels,) who happily reminds us, 
in glowing language, that George Washington lives in 
another sense; for "in Houdon's marble we have the 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 545 

form and feature, the limb and lineament, the configu- 
ration and proportion, the stature and posture ; and we 
have, enlivening all, illumining all, the mien, and manner, 
and majesty of the man, the breath as well as the body, 
the grandeur of the moral greatness of the very soul of 
the livino; Washino-ton ! " 

But how long he may be permitted to live in the 
capitol in peace I know not. The deeds that are being 
done in these days ought to make his bones restless in 
their tomb; for if aliens to our soil can mutilate and de- 
face the college he endowed, demolish its apparatus and 
destroy its libraries; if they could lay in ashes the beau- 
tiful and imposing buildings of the Virginia Military 
Institute, and rob it of all that could be appropriated as 
trophies, and displace from its pedestal that statue in 
bronze which Virginia had erected there, as another 
" endearing proof of her gratitude to her living son," 
what may they not do? How long his bones may be 
permitted to rest in Virginia soil I know not; for if they 
can obliterate at one blow our ancient boundaries, and 
erect a new State by the consent of the sham repre- 
sentatives of three or four counties, and at their pleasiu-e 
take from us county after county and annex them to 
another State, why may they not give Mount Vernon to 
Massachusetts, and give her the title to claim our conse- 
crated relic as her own, her living son ? Yes, they may 
take that " West Augusta," upon which he relied as his 
refuge and safeguard, and give it to another; they may 
take from his mother Virginia her rights and her heritage ; 
they may take his monuments and grind them to powder, 
and sow it on the fields, but the father will live in the 
hearts of his children, and he will live for ever, " to the 
world an immortal example of true glory." 

If he is dead, let his disinterestedness live. Let his 
letter to the General Assembly live, in which they were 



546 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

told "that when first called to the command of the 
American forces, he resolved, and since then he had in- 
variably adhered to the resolution, to shut his hands 
against every pecuniary recompense." Let " the endow- 
ments of the hero and the virtues of the patriot" live. 
Let his endeavors to establish the liberties of his country 
live, whether those liberties under the pressure of modern 
radicalism survive or perish. Let the great works for 
the improvement of his native State, and which were 
encouraged by his patronage, live. Let the great avenue 
of the State which he designated be opened up, until at 
every pulsation her life-blood as it gushes from her heart 
shall flow from one extremity to the other. Above all, 
if we are ever restored to the Union, and awarded our 
equal station by the side of the other States, then let the 
spirit of amity, and of mutual deference and concession, 
which he invoked as indispensably necessary at the adop- 
tion of the constitution be revived, and let the era of 
harmony and peace bring forth its living fruit, to be en- 
joyed equally by all, now and for ever. 

And if it would be improper to omit the name of Wash- 
ington, for the same reason I must mention the grand old 
orator, Patrick Henry, whose eloquence sparkles, even at 
second hand, like corruscations from the tips of brilliants ; 
and the great and revered George Mason, the author of 
the Bill of Rights and of the first constitution for Yir- 
ginia, the composition of which required the learning of 
the scholar, the wisdom of the statesman, and the purity 
of the patriot. Every one who has dipped into the his- 
tory of the colonies, knows that Henry was the foremost 
to draw the sword in defence of the rights of the country, 
and was the originator of the three greatest test measures 
of that epoch, the resolutions against the Stamp Act, the 
resolutions for placing the colony in military array, and 
equipping her armies for the field, and the resolutions in- 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 547 

structing our delegates in Congress to declare the colo- 
nies free and independent. They well know that he was 
the animating spirit of the revolution, leading and sway- 
ing public opinion, and boldly guiding it for the public 
good. None but intrepid men, in such times, can induce 
the masses to attempt an overthrow of established govern- 
ments. Men who are calculating chances of success, and 
looking to self-promotion or self-interest, are looked up- 
on with cold indifference. When the masses of a com- 
munity are chafing under wrong and oppression, each one 
of them feels that singly he is powerless, and therefore 
for a long time they smother their discontent, and mutter 
hatred between their teeth; but when at length an upright, 
disinterested, bold patriot arises, with burning oratory on 
his lips, and a proud consciousness of rectitude stamped 
upon his brow, and animates the crowd, and gives them 
hope of success, he becomes their mouthpiece, gives ut- 
terance to their stifled feelings, and is able to move and 
hurl the masses whithersoever he will. This was Patrick 
Henry ; thus he threw his soul into the cause, and waked 
the living spirit of rebellion, hurling it against the old gov- 
ernment, and causing its overthrow and annihilation. 

So, on the other hand, when men have been roused and 
agitated, and induced with all their energies to upturn and 
destroy their government and laws, and anarchy begins 
to reign, the wealthy and the prudent take alarm, and 
eagerly look around for some balance wheel to regulate 
and control tlie disordered mass, and bring system and 
order out of chaos. Then some man equally bold, equally 
wise, and equally patriotic and disinterested, is required 
to compose the popular mind by giving form and life to 
the desire to protect property and life and honor. A de- 
claration of rights is necessary, a form of government is 
essential, with all its departments complete, to give sta- 
bility, and to ensure confidence and repose. And this 



548 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

was the duty which was assigned to George Mason, and 
which he accomplished with unsurpassed ability. For 
this he drew the Virginia Bill of Rights, which announces 
the very essence of the great principles and doctrines of 
freedom from the earliest times, the elemental ideas which 
constitute the foundations upon which society rests, and 
upon which all good and free governments arc constituted. 
These principles afforded the pabulum for thought, and 
were the short pith}^ axioms which men could easily un- 
derstand, and for which they were ready to risk their 
lives and their fortunes, and for the maintenance of which 
they intended to peril everything within their power. 
And then, when they had grasped the principles, there 
came forth from his brain the form of government which 
embodied these principles, and afforded evidence of the 
stability which was so much needed, and which had the 
effect to compose the prudent, to restrain the vicious, and 
protect all in the acquirement of property, and in the 
maintenance of rio-ht. 

Thus we had the orator to rouse, animate, lead, upturn, 
and destroy the old government, and the statesman to 
compose, regulate, and govern. And then, to show the 
confidence reposed in the orator and destructionist, the 
General Assembly elected Henry the first governor, to 
establish and make solid the new government, to put it 
in motion, to see that all its machinery worked smoothly, 
without jostle or derangement, and to protect and defend 
all interests entrusted to his governmental care. 

Such gems as these I cannot omit, though I have been 
constrained to limit myself almost entirely to the contem- 
plation of the jewels that I have personally seen, or with 
whom I have had personal intercourse. 

Nor can I omit, next to these great men, among the 
architects of Virginia's fame, her sons, Jefferson, Madi- 
son, and Monroe. Every one, without hesitation, would 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 549' 

designate them as jewels worthy to ornament the brow 
of any State; but at the same time, it would be univer- 
sally admitted that it would be next to impossible to pre- 
sent any characteristic of their lives which histories and 
biographies have not already given. I cannot pass them 
by unnoticed, and yet I do not expect to add one jot or 
tittle to their exalted fame. Each one was himself a 
monument of industry, of intelligence, of consistent and 
devoted purpose, of patriotism pure and fearless, and of 
rare and far-reaching philanthropy. They all ascended 
the ladder of fame successively, and each as he advanced 
paused at each round to make an enduring mai'k for the 
benefit of posterity and for the glory of his country. 
Few of those present, I imagine, have ever seen these 
gi'eat men, or listened to their pleasant and instructive 
words. I have had the good fortune to see and converse 
with each of them, and have a most pleasing recollection 
of their personal appearance and delightful manners. 
There are portraits and monuments of each, to which 
reference may be had. In the hall of the House of Dele- 
gates there is a full-length portrait of Mr. Jefferson, 
taken by Catlin, which was purchased by a few gentle- 
men of this city, and placed there as a memento of his 
person and a memorial of their devotion to his character. 
You have all seen, too, the colossal statue, in bronze, by 
Crawford, on the Washington monument. Besides these, 
the General Assembly authorized Alexander Gait, of 
l^orfolk, a young Virginia sculptor of great promise, to 
execute a marble statue, which has been placed at the 
University. 

As I remember the great patriot and sage, he was tall,, 
slender, and remarkably erect, with a small head and thin 
hair, originally reddish, but so intermingled with gray as 
to have softened it to a pleasant hue, with mild, speak- 
ing blue eyes, emitting the rays of his brightened in- 



550 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA, 

tellect, and a countenance composed, yet frank and en- 
lightened. 

Of Mr. Madison there are doubtless many likenesses, 
but the chief are those taken by Stuart in 1803, by Cat- 
lin in 1831, and by Longacre in 1833, three years before 
his death. His person, as he appeared to me when in the 
Convention of 1829-'30, was that of a Virginia gentle- 
man of the olden school, of medium stature, dressed in a 
plain suit of black cloth, with short knee-breeches clasped 
at tlie knees with silver buckles, black silk stockings, and 
shoes fastened also with silver buckles, with powdered 
hair, full over the ears, and smoothly brushed, and tied 
behind. Add to these a speaking eye, a fine forehead, a 
benevolent countenance, a cheerful, healthy complexion, 
tinged with the ruby of a moderate quantity of the best 
old madeira, with a hand open, and a purse ready to min- 
ister to the wants of the destitute and poor, and a mind 
enlightened by copious draughts from the Pierian spring, 
and you will have a good idea of Mr. Madison as I re- 
member him. 

Mr. Monroe was taller than Mr. Madison, but the 
former, at the same period, had become very feeble and 
much broken, his face exceedingly wrinkled, and com- 
plexion pale and sallow. In the last year of his pre- 
sidency, when I saw him in tlie White-House transacting 
business with his secretary of State, John Quincy Adams, 
I would have described him as another specimen of the 
A^irginia gentleman, affable and courteous, whose soul had 
abandoned recreation and pleasure, and devoted itself to 
the cares, and toils, and troubles of great aifairs, and 
whose constant thoughts were the welfare and honor of 
a great people. 

Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Monroe were educated at Wil- 
liam and Mary College, the alma mater of as many great 
men as ever adorned the halls of any literary institution; 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 551 

and their free and unrestrained intercourse with the 
polished society of old Williamsburg gave them an ease 
and elegance of manners, which, in after life, was mel- 
lowed and chastened by the refinement of the most ele- 
gant circles of America and of foreign courts. Mr. Madi- 
son was educated at Princeton College, and he, too, pos- 
sessed a fascination and grace, a simplicity and frankness 
that repelled formality, and lent a charm to his society 
that was exceedingly delightful. If at any period of their 
history the people had occasion for men of pure and irre- 
proachable lives, of enlightened intellect, with judgment 
and prudence, armed with argument and reason, with a 
quiver full of the choicest arrows from all the armories 
of literature, of unruffled temper, of firm and decided 
action, simple in manners, easy of access, frank and art- 
less in conversation, yet enlivening and instructive, they 
would turn with undoul)ting faith to these men as re- 
presentatives fit for any office. 

They accordingly successively occupied all of the politi- 
cal offices fit for such a rare combination of qualifications, 
and every office was honored by their presence. Each of 
them has left among the archives of his office enduring 
evidences of industry and extraordinary powers. Mr. 
Jefferson and Mr. Monroe were members of the General 
Assembly, members of conventions, members of Con- 
gress, governors, ministers to foreign courts, secretary of 
State. Mr. Jefferson was vice-president, and both were 
presidents of the United States. Mr. Madison 0(;cupied 
all of the same offices, except that he never held a diplo- 
matic appointment, nor was governor of the State. Mr. 
Jefferson and Mr. Madison were each visitors and rectors 
of the University, and Mr. Madison and Mr. Monroe 
were each in the convention to revise the Constitution of 
Yirginia in 1829- '30. Each served as president of the 
United States for eight years; but Mr. Monroe was the 



552 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

only one of all the presidents who came into office with 
every electoral vote save one. 

I had the pleasure on several occasions of hearing Mr. 
Jeiferson in the unreserve of private conversation. Such 
men necessarily enchain the attention of others, and their 
reminiscences of events and incidents in their previous 
lives, and in their deep research after knowledge, are ex- 
ceedingly entertaining. On one occasion, with an en- 
chanting pleasantry, he was giving a description of the 
othces and character of the muses and graces, and of the 
poesy of the ancient mythology, and being myself a 
young man then, I was particularly struck with his re- 
mark, " that he had been amused in his reading to find 
that upon antique gems, Yulcan, the artizan of Olympus, 
was represented in his workshop forging arrows for the 
little god Cupid." Our fair daughters and bachelor sons 
will have to keep a sharp look out, for if in these days 
the deformed old god, with his accumulated experience 
and skill, should be still engaged in his ancient occupa- 
tion, it will be exceedingly difficult to shun those arrows, 
feathered and keenly tipped by a master workman, and 
sped with unerring certainty by a very cunning and wary 
little bowman. Mr. Jefferson, on the occasion referred 
to, glided into the theme of the monuments of antiquity, 
and dwelt upon the perfection of ancient architecture, 
and the "magnificence of ancient temples and public build- 
ings, and said that he had selected for the model of the 
Capitol at Richmond the Maison Carre, or temple of 
Nismes, which, though of more modern date, was remark- 
able for its beauty and architectural proportions. That 
model is still preserved in the capitol; but any one who 
will examine it, will discern in the building which was 
erected many departures from the design, particularly in 
the change of the attic into a basement, and in the con- 
struction of the columns to the portico, which are of the 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA, 553 

same diameter from the base to the capital, and in the 
omission of the steps to the portico, which add grace and 
usefuhiess in the modeh 

Mr. Jefferson's mind at that time was engrossed with the 
erection of the University, and his conversation continu- 
ally ran upon that topic. It was the pet of his old age, 
and he petted it because he hoped, at no distant day, that 
all the orders of architecture would be developed there. 
And he expressed the fond desire to build up the institu- 
tion, for the purpose of preparing Virginia's sons to be^ 
come the instructors of future generations, and to diffuse 
her principles and policy among the other States, instead 
of having the minds of our own youth polluted and cor- 
rupted by imported teachers, who liad overrun the State, 
and taken possession of our academies and primary 
schools. He had the sagacity to discern the necessity 
and the importance of institutions at which the highest 
branches are taught, to ensure for all time the capacity 
to teach all the sciences and arts, and thus give to Vir- 
ginia the power and glory that enlightened intellect will 
ever command. 

Nothing that his great mind touched was without its 
interest. He had been the great reformer of the age — 
had warred against long established abuses, and against 
every principle that tended to perpetuate the old aristo- 
cracy, or to strengthen the hand of power. He had laid 
his axe at the very root of the tree, and eradicated the 
laws of primogeniture, of entails, and of a govermental 
religion ; and though these subjects were intimately inter- 
woven with our whole system, and constituted its fibres, 
and nerves, and muscles, yet he possessed the popularity 
and power to destroy them, and to erect a new system 
upon their ruins. He was the founder of the republican 
party of that day, and the master-builder of the democracy ; 
and he pursued the old Federal party with the besom of 

S8 



554 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA, 

destruction, and for this reason he was subjected to as 
much hostility and vituperation as ever fell to the lot of 
any man, but he pursued his purpose with undiverted 
aim. 

The three great acts of his life, which he deemed 
worthy to constitute the inscription on his monument, 
were the declaration of independence, the act for estab- 
lishing religious freedom, and the establishment of the 
University of Virginia; — not his writings, which were 
upon almost every conceivable subject, and which dis- 
played unusual erudition, deep research, universality of 
i;aste, and unsurpassed industry and accuracy ; — not his 
correspondence with all the publicists and scholars of 
the age, marked as it was by originality of thought 
and fearlessness of expression, and stored with the conse- 
crated lore of the classics, and with fruit from all the 
granaries of the earth ; — not his acquisition of Louisiana, 
the master stroke of his policy while president, which un- 
locked the Mississippi and its tributaries, and brought in- 
to existence the millions of human beings, who have since 
teemed like magic in the vast country through which 
these inland seas flow, with myriads of productions that 
have sprung from their industry, enterprise, and capital, 
displaying a w^ealth and magnificence that have made the 
power and might of this nation the astonishment of all 
people ; — not his political acts w^ith his party victories 
.and triumphs ; — not the ofiices he filled with the great 
men around him, agitating and composing great questions 
and guiding a nation's destinies ; but the emanations of 
his mind — independence, religious freedom, and educa- 
tion. 

I have sometimes thouo'lit if Mr. Jefferson could come 
back into the world with the indignant feelings that in- 
spired him when he penned the declaration of indepen- 
dence, and could take in at a glance the enormities that 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 555 

have been perpetrated upon tlie southern people since his 
departure from the earth ; could see his beloved Virginia, 
whose voice was once so potential in the national councils, 
now palsied by the infliction of wrongs more aggravated 
than those perpetrated upon the colonies by the British 
king; could see her, with diminished territory, taxed 
without representation, not permitted in any department 
of the government to raise a finger of warning or utter a 
word of reprobation against those who are warring against 
constitutions and reeking their vengeance upon her people ; 
could see her citizens deprived of property without their 
consent ; governed by laws intended to oppress them, not 
assented to by their representatives; her State laws sus- 
pended by subordinate military commanders by the mere 
exercise of their orders; trial by jury abolished and sub- 
stituted by mock trials, held by petty military officers, 
having no knowledge of law and not recognizing the 
binding obligation of constitutions; the liberty of the 
press assailed by the arrest of editors and the seizure of 
their presses and papers ; standing armies quartered upon 
her in time of peace, and every aggravation of misrule 
impending or threatened, — if he could see all this, perpe- 
trated by authority of the Federal government, not in 
time of war, but after the restoration of peace has been 
proclaimed, and after all the States have returned to their 
allegiance and become loyal to the government, he would 
blot from his monument that he was the author of the 
declaration, and mourn that in so short a time all its prin- 
ciples had been subverted and destroyed. If he did not 
do this, he would attempt to exercise the once acknow- 
ledged right of petition, and send to congress a remon- 
strance, Ijurning with brands plucked from the altar of 
liberty, breathing the inspired sentiments of a free soul, 
filled with the exalted pride of a freeman, who felt that 
freedom was his inheritance, and that a virtuous nation 



556 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

could not deprive a son, descending from noble ancestors, 
who secured the liberty of that nation, of his just, privi- 
leges and inestimable birthright. 

If he were on eartli he would at least rejoice that the 
other highest creation of his brain, religious liberty, had 
as yet stood the wreck of nearly every other hope, and 
that the pet of his old age, the University, still survives. 
Of these he would have cause still to be proud, and every 
man in the State has cause to be thankful. It is some 
consolation at least to reflect that we have one right not 
yet denied, — "That Almighty God hath created the mind 
free ; that all attempts to influence it by temporal punish- 
ment or burdens, or by civil incapacitations, tend only to 
beget hypocrisy and meanness." (It would be well if our 
rulers would weigh these words in their application to 
other rights!) "That all men shall be free to profess, 
and by argument to maintain, their opinions in matters 
of religion." Every temple that rears its beautiful spire 
to the clouds and adorns our cities, and every lowly church 
in a sequestered grove, is a monument to the sacredness 
of these principles, and to the assertion that "truth is 
great, and will prevail; that she is the proper and sufii- 
cient antagonist of error, and has nothing to fear from 
the conflict, unless by human interposition disarmed of 
her natural weapons, free ai-gument and debate — errors 
ceasing to be dangerous when it is permitted freely to 
contradict them." We have one other consolation, too, 
that the University and our other noble educational in- 
stitutions and charities have been permitted to exist, and 
that the higher institutions will in time send down bright 
minds to elevate the lower and brine; them in turn to the 
higher, to be improved in a more expanded degree, es- 
tablishino- a current of learning throus-h all the ramifica- 
tions of society ; like wisdom descending from the mind 
of the Almighty, permeating all the minds upon earth in 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGIIsriA. 557 

different degrees, but preparing all, as they improve and 
are exalted, to be adapted to inhabit the regions of eternal 
bliss. 

If, my friends, any of yon desire to know something 
more of Mr. Madison ; if you desire to glance at his 
writings and his speeches, and the coloring and shading 
which made his bright and eventful life glorious, I must 
refer you to William C. Rives, the gifted biographer, an- 
other of Virginia's jewels. You will find him dev^oting 
his retirement to develop the genius and virtues of the 
patriot sage, and endeavoring to transmit to posterity a 
biography worthy of his noble theme. But if you are 
not content, and still desire some specimen of his power 
of argument and his manner of forging a chain of reason- 
ing, I can only invite you to read his report and resolu- 
tions of '98 and '99. A. finer specimen of a lucid style, 
and a more overwhelming and convincing argument, can 
scarcely be found in the English language. They pro- 
duced the desired effect in their dav; and the alien and 
sedition laws, aij;ainst which thev were levelled, which 
were proved to be utterly unconstitutional, were suffered 
to expire by their own limitation, and were never subse- 
quently revived. They ought to have a similar effect 
now, in restraining latitudinarian constructions of the 
Constitution. But men have nO occasion for forced or 
strained constructions now. When Congress, or its lead- 
ing men, in their inad career rush up against the Consti- 
tution, they do not hesitate a moment, but crack their 
whips and drive right onward, through constitutions and 
laws, and over principles and rights. If you are not 
satisfied still, and wish to have an inkling of his pro- 
phetic vision, listen while I give you a short extract, de- 
tailing his apprehensions of the encroachments of the 
legislative department of the government. It saddens 
the heart when we look around us and see how the pro- 



558 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

phecies "of these men are being fnlfilled ; how the en- 
croachments of power are sweeping away all constitu- 
tional restraints. In former days we were accustomed to 
look with anxiety on the usurpations of the executive 
department, and to hui-1 our thunders at the one-man 
power. Now we are looking with terror at the great 
maelstrom of legislative misrule, which is drawing into 
its maddening and muddy whirlpool all the powers of the 
government, and usurping powers never contemplated by 
the wildest Utopian. He says : " Experience assures us 
that the efficacy of providing written constitutions has 
been greatly overrated, and that some more adequate de- 
fence is indispensably necessary for the more feeble 
against the more powerful members of the government. 
The legislative department is everywhere extending the 
sphere of its activity, and drawing all power into its im- 
petuous vortex." " The founders of the republic seem 
never to have recollected the danger from legislative 
usurpations, which, by assembling all power in the same 
hands, must lead to the same tyranny as is threatened by 
executive usurpations. But in a representative republic, 
where the executive magistrate is carefully limited, both 
in the extent a,nd duration of its power, and where the 
legislative power is exercised by an assembly, which is 
inspired by a supposed influence over the people, with an 
intrepid confidence in its own strength, which is suffi- 
ciently numerous to feel all the passions which actuate a 
multitude, yet not so numerous as to be incapable of pur- 
suing the objects of its passions, by means which reason 
prescribes, it -is against the enterprising ambition of this 
department that the people ought to indulge all their jeal- 
ousy and exhaust all their precautions?^ 

And I cannot resist the inclination to quote a passage 
from Mr. Jefferson's pen of similar import. In his im- 
pressive language he says: "All the powers of govern- 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 559' 

ment — legislative, executive, and judiciary — result to the 
legislative body. The concentrating these in the same 
hands is precisely the deiinition of despotic government. 
It will be no alleviation that those powers will be exer- 
cised by a plurality of hands, and not by a single one. 
One hundred and seventy-three despots would surely be 
as oppressive as one." 

"Were these men speaking of the present Congress? 
Were they warning us against the enterprising ambition 
of the legislative department of these times? If the 
present Congress succeed in concentrating all the power 
they are now striving to obtain in their own hands, then 
we shall have precisely the definition of despotic govern- 
ment verified and intensified. Virginia, dismeml)eredy 
disheartened, spirit-broken Virginia, cannot interpose as 
she once did, for she is helpless aud almost hopeless ; but 
there are other States, not in the southern clime, but in 
the frozen zone, who may, like Mary, the mother of the 
Saviour, "keep all these things and ponder them in their 
hearts." We are powerless to restrain ; can do nothing 
but fold the arms and shake the head. But other States 
will come in for their share in time. The lion hunts 
his prey day by day, and when he has slaked his thirst 
with the blood of one victim, seeks another. Wisdom 
looks afar off, and by the signs which she has noted 
marks the coming tempest, and prepares her refuge before 
it sweeps the ocean and the land. 

But I hurry on. If I touch on the character, or actions, 
or writings of any of these men, the materials grow, en- 
large, expand. I have no time to dwell, even for a mo- 
ment, upon any of the interesting incidents of the war 
with England which occurred during Mr. Madison's ad- 
ministration. If I were disposed to eulogize the old flag, 
and to paint daring deeds, brilliant achievements and 
thrilling events, I might pause for a second, for we had 



560 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

a right to claim a full share of the honors and the glory 
of those days, as well as of the days of the Revolution. 
We could run up "Union jack" then. We could glory 
in the motto, " Don't give up the ship," then. Our men 
were there, our guns pealed fortli their thunders, our 
ships sent the ships of Old England to Davy Jones' 
locker, their glories were wreathed around us. Our 
money in full share was devoted to the service, — for the 
spirit of the South was " millions for defence, not a cent 
for tribute," — and the blood of our sons was freely spilled. 
It was our home and our country we defended, and we 
had a right to share all the fame. Then our rights were 
respected, our honor was revered. Virginia was at the 
helm, and the Constitution was the compass. The stars 
and stripes were the emblem of an Union whose honor 
and faith were untarnished and spotless State rights 
were venerated. A gallant ship bore the name of the 
Constitution, and the gallant tars who were aboard of 
her fought with desperation, because she was the type of 
the fundamental law. She was nicknamed " Old Iron- 
sides," to indicate that neither shot nor bomb could pierce 
her impregnable sides. Such was the love they bore her 
that even when she was unfit for service they refused to 
permit her to be broken up, and every one exclaimed 
with the poet, — 

" O, better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave; 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep. 

And there should be her grave." 
And, alas ! if the government had continued to respect 
the instrument as they did the emblem ; if they had not 
warred against the one v/hile they adored the other, onr 
own Confederate government never would have lived its 
short, glorious, and honored life. Bnt while the latter 
existed it performed one illustrious act, at least, that will 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 561 

ring in future time, and glitter in story and in song. As 
the Congress was the chief violator of the constitution, 
and a ship had been christened the Congress in honor of 
it, and was its emblem, the iron-clad Virginia of the Con- 
federate States conquered the emblem, and sent its flames 
to the skies and its ashes to the mighty deep. And at 
the same time sunk the Cumberland, and riddled the 
Minnesota, and scared off the Roanoke, and peppered the 
St. Lawrence, and disabled two gunboats, drove off the 
Ericsson, and silenced the forts. That was glory enough 
for one day. 

If the Constitution should ever be respected again ; if 
the olden times should ever return ; if men, like the pa- 
triots of a better age, should once more raise their hands 
and their voices to protect, not only the rights of minori- 
ties, but State rights as tliey were once acknowledged, 
and the rights of the humblest and poorest citizen, and 
we could say, "Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of 
these, ye did it unto me," then we might be able once 
more to say, — 

" By the death of the brave ! by the God in the skies. 
There's life in the old land yet." 

Then the wise and the good might have a brighter hope 
for a better day. 

In the Convention of 1829-30, the greatest assembly 
of Yirginia jewels that was ever exhibited to an admir- 
ing country, I had an opportunity to witness a little in- 
cident, which I mention simply to sliow how great men 
will sometimes be appalled. Mr. Monroe, the old soldier 
of the Revolution, the friend of Washington, Jefferson 
and Madison, and beloved by everybody, had been unani- 
mously elected president of the convention. The men of 
other days with their mellowed fame, and the men who 
-were preparing to take their places with the fresh gar- 



562 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

lands they were daily gathering, were assembled around 
him. They were in the hall of the House of Delegates, 
seated in the old benches which time had consecrated; 
the president in the old walnut chair, a curious specimen 
of antiquity, which, even in my day, I have seen with the 
coat of arms of Great Britian emblazoned on its frontlet ; 
the room filled to its utmost capacity, when Mr. Madison 
rose and addressed the chair. The reporters seized their 
pens. The convention rose in a body. Every man stood. 
The great man assayed his voice, and finding it too weak 
to fill the compass of tlie hall, advanced from his seat 
quite to the secretary's table. Nearly the entire conven- 
tion rushed around him. lie was confused by the un- 
usual circumstance, faltered once or twice, but then pro- 
ceeded, and while his language was chaste and pure, his 
ideas did not flow in a connected chain ; the point and the 
strength was wanting, which he possessed when " he was 
wont to pull the arrow to its head on the strongest bow, 
and let it fly with all its power." Few of those who 
surrounded him could hear his remarks, and none of the 
spectators could catch a syllable. 

In the evening, as secretary, I went as usual to Mr. 
Monroe's apartment, to read to him the day's proceed- 
ings, as required by the rules. Mr. Madison came in. 
It was delightful to witness the cordiality of the old 
cronies, and the boyish playfulness with which the one^ 
accosted the other. It reminded me of the song 
"John Anderson my Joe, John, 

We've climbed the hill thegither, 
An' mony a canty day, John, 

We've had we ane anither; 
Now we maun totter down, John, 

An' hand in hand we'll go. 
An' sleep thegither at the foot, 

John Anderson my Joe." 



THE .JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 563 

In a few moments the reporter of the debates entered 
and asked Mr. Madison to run over the notes he had 
sketched of his remarks. "Sir," said he, '*I would not 
have you publish that speech as it was delivered for any- 
con sideration. Did you not perceive that I had the buck 
ague ? The situation in which I was placed, the know- 
ledge that much was expected of me, the feebleness of 
my voice, the rush of the convention around me, un- 
nerved and sealed my brain, and it would not work. I 
will give you the remarks I intended to make, but not 
that speech." 

It is remai'kable to see how many of the principles 
announced by all of these distinguished men live to keep 
up their fame. We see their effects every day ; they are 
producing results in the world now that can scarcely be 
appreciated. As an evidence of this, I will barely men- 
tion the Monroe doctrine, which announced to the world 
that the United States would not permit the nations of 
the old hemisphere to interfere with the concerns of the 
new. Now, we see the time has already come when this 
principle is guiding the government, and the Napoleons 
of modern times have been warned that they have stepped 
beyond the boundary prescribed, and they must unclutch 
their grasp from Mexico and withdraw their troops. But 
I am compelled to close this casket of jewels and hasten 
to another. 

Mr. Madison died on the 28th of June, 1836. Had he 
lived a few days longer, he would have expired on the 
4th of July, the day which, memorable as it is, was made 
still more memorable by the death of Jefferson, Adams 
and Monroe. He is buried at Montpelier, in the county 
of Orange, and the words " James Madison," and the date 
of his birth and death, constitute the only inscription^ on 
his tomb. 

There is in the cemetery at Hollywood, on the beauti- 



564 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

fill hill which overlooks the river, a mbnnment erected 
by the State in honor of Mr. Monroe. On one side are 
the words, " James Monroe. Born in Westmoreland 
county, 28th April, 1T58. Died in the city of New York, 
4th July, 1831. By order of the General Assembly his 
remains were removed to this cemetery 5th July, 1858, 
as an evidence of the affection of Yiro-inia for her o-ood 
and honest son." On the other side: "The eminent ser- 
vices performed by this patriot for his country are en- 
during monuments of his wisdom and virtue." 

After having glanced at these antique gems, we come 
to look at more modern jewels, which we cherish, not 
only for their intrinsic value, but for the associations 
which surround them. I come to bestow a kind remem- 
brance upon John Tjder, another of Virginia's sons, whom 
she prized for the services he rendered, and the noble 
qualities of his head and heart. When I was first elected 
clerk of the House of Delegates, his voice was among the 
first that I heard ringing in its hall, and his hand the first 
that gave me a welcome to the position I occupied. And 
there was a charm about the voice that won upon the 
heart, and a warmth in the grip of the hand that felt 
cordial, and an attraction in the countenance and manner 
of the man that drew 3^011 to him with irresistible power. 
When he was elected governor, which was at the same 
session of the General Assemblv, I was welcomed in the 
same way in the governor's mansion and in the executive 
chamber; and such was his ease and faniiliarity, that 
everybody could approach him without the least restraint, 
and he transacted business with such promptness and 
kindness that it was a pleasure to have ofiicial intercourse 
with him. He was so frank and generous, so jovial and 
cordial, so genial and kind, and Mnthal, so manly and high 
toned, and so familiar with the duties of his station, that 
you were ready to give him your hand and heart in return 



TH,E JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 565 

for bis, which he seemed ever ready to proffer. He was 
tlien in the heyday of popularity, and appeared to be the 
owner of the talisman that secured for him the choicest 
favors of fortune, and he was characterized as her most 
lucky pet. I have always noticed that when men are 
either petted by the people, or have what is called a con- 
tinuous run of good luck, that they generally possess the 
mental and personal qualities that justify the petting, and 
the judgment and prudence to secure the successes they 
win. 

During Mr. Tyler's gubernatorial term, he was elected 
to the senate of the United States, and while in that body 
was chosen president of the senate, to preside during the 
temporary absence of the vice-president; and no man w^ho 
ever occupied the station of senator gave his mind and 
strength to the service of the state with more devotion 
and love. He was a strict constructionist of the old 
school, and had been brought up to admire and to 
carry out the principles inculcated in Madison's report. 
Throughout his whole course in the senate, he never 
swerved for a moment from the most rigid interpretation 
of the Constitution, and from the most strict limitation 
of executive power; and notwithstanding these were his 
avowed and well understood opinions, and had been acted 
upon with the utmost firmness in all the public trusts 
with which he had been invested, yet, after his retirement 
from the senate, he was selected by the Whig party as its 
candidate for the ofhce of vi(;e-president, and was elected, 
and, as is well known, by the death of the president in 
one month after entering upon the office, he became the 
president, and served out his official term. It is easy to 
understand how, under such circumstances, he became 
unpopular with the Democratic party, and was denounced 
by them. And then, when he began to act upon the 
principles in which he was nurtured, which had become 



566 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

a second nature to him, and with the firmness and resolu- 
tion of his character began to veto the long-cherished 
measures of the party which had elected him, and to con- 
trol their action, it is perfectly natural that he should 
have become distasteful to them. Of course popular 
favor deserted him for a time, and he was the subject of 
bitter vituperation and of acrimonious feeling for the 
greater portion of his administration. But when he-sum- 
moned around him as members of his cabinet such men 
as John C. Colhoun, and Abel P. Upshur, and Thomas 
W. Gilmer, and John Y. Mason, and Hugh S. Legare, 
men of exalted talents, of high-toned character and vir- 
tues, of upright honesty and deserved popularity, the 
genial warmth of other days began to revive, party 
asperity began to be mellowed and softened, and long 
before his death he was again beloved, and was held in 
high estimation as a virtuous patriot. 

And when stormy times came round again, when the 
Southern States had been roused by sectional strife and 
threatened oppression, by violations of the Constitution, 
and impending violation of the rights of property, to dis- 
solve the Union, and had formed another government, 
Mr. Tyler was summoned from his retirement and elected 
a member of the convention of Virginia to consider 
whether she should unite her fortunes with the new Con- 
federacy. Virginia, as is well known, paused long, and 
was willing to make every effort to save the Union. Mr. 
Tyler was appointed one of the commissioners to attempt 
to reconcile the contending sections, and prev^ent, if pos- 
sible, the threatened war. We know the fate of his mis- 
sion. We know, on his return, he counselled a severance 
of the Union, and that Virginia took her place wdth her 
southern sisters. We know that he became a member of 
the Confederate Congress, and that all his powers were 
exerted in the cause of the Confederacy. With heart 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 567 

and soul he lent his energies and faculties to rouse and 
-encourage the people, to infuse vigor and life into the 
public councils, to energize the decimated ranks of our 
armies, and uphold our gallant officers and noble defen- 
ders. And we know the sad result. 

In all these situations Mr. Tyler was the same resolute 
and firm representative, the same sincere and devoted 
patriot, and the same warm and kind friend. He com- 
menced his career as a member of the House of Delegates 
at the age of one and twenty, and as soon as he was eligi- 
ble was elected a representative in the Congress of the 
United States, and being thus, from boyhood, in all the 
most elevated public positions, he was thoroughly familiar 
with all the men of note, and perfectly versed in all the 
great measures which had agitated and controlled the 
councils of the State and the nation. His fatlier l)efore 
him had been governor of the State, and wherever the 
old blood is traced it is the progenitor of noble and virtu- 
ous actions. Mr. Tyler's remains were deposited in Hol- 
lywood cemetery, by the side of the ashes of Monroe. 
Let these two bright jewels be placed in the same casket, 
and let affection gather around and perform the office of 
keeping up their beauty and brilliance. 

My friends, we have all seen some lovely maiden in 
her bridal robes, the emblem of purity, with flowing veil, 
partl}^ cencealing, partly exhibiting her modest features, 
gathered in folds about her brow by a brooch of pearls 
clustering to form a beautiful bud, to shed a mild glory 
around her graceful form. Such a picture reminds me 
of Virginia in her youthful bloom, with her sons cluster- 
ing around her like bees about their queen, forming a 
brooch worthy to adorn the brow of any bridal State. 
Such sons as Randolph of Roanoke, and Littleton W. 
Tazewell, and Vv'm. B. Giles, and Benj. W. Leigh, Chap- 
man Johnson, Abel P. Upshur, James Barbour, Philip 



568 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

P. Barbonr, Robert B. Tajlor, William S. Archer and 
John W. »Tones, and I could t!;ive you a more extended 
catalogue, brighter and nobler than those which Homer 
gives of his warriors gathered around the walls of Troy. 
But who can do justice to such men as these; who can do 
himself justice, or do honor to the country that gave 
them birth, l)y attempting to give an inkling of their 
histories, a surface view of their characters, or a shadow 
of the circumstances by which they were environed. I 
am skimming along like a swallow on the surface of a 
meadow, and can only give you a faint idea of the style 
of oratory of some of them as it appeared to me when I 
have hung upon the inspirations that dropped from their 
tongues. 

I invoke my memory, unaided by books or documents, 
to bring before you a reminiscence of Randolph of Roa- 
noke — one of the most remarkable men of this or of any 
age. The whole appearance of the man was striking. 
His head, in proportion to his frame, was small, his hair, 
which he parted in the middle, grew low upon his brow, 
and contradicted the science of phrenologists, by giving 
to one with an expanded brain and great mind a re- 
markably low forehead ; his features were rather delicate 
and feminine, and gave him the appearance, when he first 
went to Congress, of extreme youth, which induced the 
speaker, when he was about to administer to him his 
official oath, to enquire if he had attained the constitu- 
tional age, and which elicited from his ever ready tongue 
the response, " Go ask my constituents." His eyes 
were black and full of lustre, his voice peculiarly femi- 
nine and shrill, yet clear as the tones of a silver bell, and 
he could give it a compass Which would enable the hearer 
at a distance to catch his lowest whisper, when he assayed 
the deep or the pathetic. His neck was very short, and 
deeply seated between his shoulders, M'hich were some- 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 569 

what elevated; the frame of his body, for one so thin, 
was massive, his arms unusually long, and his fingers at- 
tenuated ; and when he extended that right arm in debate, 
and shook that dexter finger, it gave you an idea of the 
warnings and tlireatnings that were to follow ; his limbs, 
from his body downwards, were long and thin, and made 
him much taller than he seemed while seated. His dress 
at times was fantastic. At one time he appeared in a 
full jockey suit, jockey cap, roundabout, long top-boots 
as high as his knees, spurs and whip, like one equipped 
for a race; at another time wrapped in Russian furs, 
from his cap to his feet; and then again in plain attire, 
such as other gentlemen wore who are best dressed when 
the habiliments attract least notice — simple, becoming 
and appropriate to the man, the place and the occasion. 

I heard him twice in debate, once in the Senate of the 
United States, as the compeer of Calhoun and of Webster, 
and the antagonist of Clay. When I heard him the first 
time he was in one of his excited moods, when his brain 
seemed to be charged with electricity, and the sparkles 
flew around him as heated metal throws off corruscations 
when struck by some Vulcan's hammer. His style was 
eccentric, rapidly jumping from subject to subject like 
meteors flying from a common centre; and you would 
have thought from his sharp hits, right and left, that he 
would strike some of the great spheres revolving there, 
and hurl them beneath his feet. Like Pliseton drivina: 
the coureers of the sun, with magic power he would 
smoothly and majestically glide up the ascent of the blue 
firmament, and then again suddenly, with impetuous 
daring, dash along, seeming to have lost all control of 
himself, his coursers or his chariot, and all regard for his 
appointed track. He would seem to lose sight of the 
subject in debate, and to be himting his game in out of 
the way places; but before you were aware of his object, 
36 



570 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

you would hear his double-barrel in the midst of a whole 
covey, and he invariably bagged the bird at which he 
fired. With all this there were connecting links of argu- 
ment and illustration, pointed and glaring, when the ap- 
plication of his eccentricities was made manifest. Sena- 
tors laid down their pens, and turned with eager eyes 
full upon him, and auditors stood breathless until he 
paused, then expanded their lungs with a full inhalation, 
and listened with profound attention for another out- 
pouring. 

I heard him again in 1829-'30, in the convention. I 
think I see him now as he stood before me then. The 
question for discussion was, whether white population and 
taxation combined should be the basis of representation. 
There was a large old stove, of the colonial times, which 
then heated the hall, having the arms of the colony cast 
in the metal, with the motto, " En dat Virginia quartern P 
Mr. Randolph had, a few days before, called my attention 
to it, and said he rev^ered it for its antiquity; the hand of 
innovation had not readied it, and it made Virginia the 
fourth estate in the realm. From this stove a pipe ran 
into the opposite partition, and a plain staff, which could 
be grasped with the hand, arose from the floor and sup- 
ported this pipe. Whether he had, taken the position 
because he desired the support of something that had the 
appearance of stability, I know not ; but when he rose, 
he grasped and supported himself by this staff with his 
left hand, his right arm being free. It was late in the 
day, and the concourse of people who usually attended 
the debates had nearly all dispersed. But in less time 
tlian I could conceiv^e it possible for the information to 
have been carried, every avenue to the room was flooded, 
and men walked on tiptoe, as if afraid that tlie creaking 
of their shoes might lose them a single word. His man- 
ner was entirely different from that I have heretofore at- 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 571 

tempted to describe. It was calm, collected, dignified, 
and commanding, and his gesticulation was that of a 
master actor. He would begin to express a thought in 
language, and then, leaving the sentence incomplete, 
would, by a wave of the hand^or a change of the muscles 
of the face, give the idea as perfect to the mind as if 
conveyed by the most speaking words. No reporter can 
catch these peculiarities, and it is difficult to convey a 
just conception of the effect. He went on smoothly, ex- 
pressing his astonishment at the changes that had been 
proposed to the Constiution, that no part of it should be 
left untouched ; expressed his amazement at such a result ; 
believed it was the very best constitution, not for Japan, 
not for China, not for New England, or for old England, 
but for this, our ancient commonwealth of Virginia. I 
remember one thought, and his manner of uttering it: 
" I am unwilling to pull down the edifice of our State 
government from the garret to tlie cellar ; aye, down to 
the foundation stone." And then he said, " The gentle- 
man from Augusta," and he seized his cravat with both 
hands, and twisted and pulled at it, as if feeling a sense 
of extreme suffocation, and the contortions of face united 
with the efforts of the hands to relax tlie throttle he felt, 
the whole gesture expressing the idea so forcibly, that 
you saw it palpable that he intended to say that Yirginia 
was suffering strangulation from the ruffians who were 
assailing her. And yet he went on with another idea. 
These things must be seen to be understood. No man 
that ever I have seen equalled him in this respect. He 
took up the great subject before the convention, and 
argued it with power, grouping the arguments of his op- 
ponents, and turning them with force against them. I 
remember one other thought. He said he had been told 
not to look at the Federal government. And this in Vir- 
ginia, " where, to use a very homely phrase, but one that 



572 THE JEWELS OF VIRGmiA. 

exactly suits the case, we can't take a step without break- 
ing our shins over some Federal obstacle." Mr. Kan- 
dolph's style was not that of a close reasoner, of one who 
lays his premises at a distance, and then step by step ad- 
vances to the conclusion. . It was disjointed, not dove- 
tailed, but when fally and spiritedly presented, it was 
equally overwhelming. 

Mr. Randolph was a descendant through his father 
from Pocahontas, the daughter of Powhatan, the great 
Indian chief. He was elected a member of the house of 
I'epresentatives in 1799, and was in that body twenty-six 
years. He was in the Senate of the United States for 
two years, and was then elected a member of the conven- 
tion of Virginia. After the adjournment of the conven- 
tion. General Jackson appointed him minister plenipoten- 
tiary to Russia. He died in Philadelphia on the 24th of 
May, 1833. 

What would he have thought if he had lived to the 
present day ? WJiat would have been the thoughts of all 
the men of whom I have spoken ? How would they have 
acted had they been on the arena of Yirginia now ? Not 
only to see the Constitution of their fathers disowned and 
disavowed, but to see the men of the present day living 
under a thing called a constitution, adopted by a miser- 
able set of a wretched minority of three or four counties 
of this old commonwealth, the '•'' magna mater viruin^'' 
and those counties under the thraldom of military occu- 
pation, sending forth spawn to rule and have dominion 
over her people ! What would these men think were 
they here now, when literally we cannot take a step with- 
out breaking our shins over some Federal obstacle? It 
might have been tolerated when military satraps held the 
sway and supported the ill-gotten power by the bayonet 
and the shell. It might have been tolerated when a mili- 
tary commander could veto your laws, unrebuked even 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 573 

by a mild remonstrance, and could say to the people of 
this city, you may elect whom you please as your mayor, 
but if you elect a man distasteful to me he shall not 
serve. It might have been tolerated when your sons were 
in prison, and you spake with bated breath lest the dun- 
geon should be your portion. But when peace has been 
proclaimed, and you are allowed to have a legislature of 
your own, is there no remedy ? If the faintest semblance 
of self-government remains, if there is any power residing 
in the people to do anything, they might call a convention 
to wipe from existence the incubus; that is, the ever- 
rising, never-ending remembrancer of degradation, and, 
having been born again, begin the new life with old prin- 
ciples, but with a new constitution and new men. They 
might in the new organic law bring to a full stop the ex- 
istence of the assumed power of those who, from the 
honorable position to which they have been improperly 
elevated, can recommend an amendment to the Federal 
Constitution, which I am proud to see the General Assem- 
bly of this State has indignantly rejected; by which every 
Virginian who deserves the name would humble and de- 
base himself in his own eyes, and in the estimation of 
every honorable man, if he could vote for it; bj^ which 
Virginia would be required to degrade her highest and 
noblest worthies ; by which she would consent for ever to 
disfranchise Robert E. Lee and the men who stood shoul- 
der to shoulder and upheld his arms in the grand and 
matchless defence of the ever-renowned capital of his 
honored State ; by which she would discard and disinherit 
the Stonewall brigade and the friends and compatriots of 
the lion-hearted Jackson — 

" The leo-ions who had seen his glance 
Across the carnage flashing. 
And thrilled to catch his ringing ' charge ' 
Above the volley crashing;" 



574: THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

by which she would renounce the men who rode trium- 
phant with the "wings of the armj," the cavahy of 
Stuart; by which the veterans, whose hearts never felt a 
quail, should be scouted from your councils; by which 
you would elevate and honor ignorant Africans, and dis- 
honor and disgrace the men who were spurring by th& 
side of "Ashby, our Paladin," to 

" Catch the last words of cheer 
Dropped from his tongue ! 
Over the volley's din 
Let them be rung ! 
" ' Follow me ! follow me ! ' 

Soldier ! oh ! could there be 
Psean or dirge for thee 
Loftier sung." 

I return from this dio;ression and come back to the 
pearls of great price. I hope you will bear with me 
while I attempt to draw a faint sketch of another orator, 
whom I think one of the most gifted of our Yiro;iuia 
statesmen. I allude to Abel P. Upshur, a jurist, a judge, 
a representative, a member of the convention of 1829-'30, 
secretary of the navy, and secretary of state during the 
administration of Mr. Tyler. His forte, I think, was in 
a deliberative assembly. I heard him on many occasions 
at the bar, for he was for a long period attorney for the 
Commonwealth in this city. I have listened to his lucid, 
short, distinct, and able opinions, delivered off hand, as a 
judge. I witnessed some of his efforts in the convention; 
but the most powerful speech of his life, that I know of, 
was delivered in the House of Delegates on the proposition 
to repeal the law which prohibited a man from marrying 
his wife's sister. Judge Upshur was of large frame, 
broad shoulders, expanded chest, fine head, high and 
capacious foi"ehead, as if the brain had pressed it outward. 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 675 

It was like the massiv-e brow of Daniel Webster, though 
his eyebrows did not throw the dark shade upon the face 
that Webster's did ; but there was a sunshine playing upon 
the features, as if the light had been reflected from hi& 
exceeding bald head. One eye was defective, but the 
other was so speaking that it tln-ew the defective one in 
the shade. At that time old General Samuel Blackburn 
was a member from the county of Bath. He was a re- 
markable man, too, in his day; was a grim, morose old 
customer, who liad a peculiar intellect of his own, which 
displayed uncommon powers, but delighted most in cut- 
ting hits upon his brother members, and his blows had 
been given so hard, and repeated so often, that he became 
a terror to tlie young, and the older avoided encounters 
with him. He had never failed to turn the laugh upon 
his antagonists, and made them subjects of his ridicule 
and mirth. Judge Upshur had delivered a master effort 
in favor of the bill before the house, and when he con- 
cluded, having delighted all beyond measure, and the 
effect was manifest in the beaming of the countenances 
of the audience, and in the quivering tear that hung on 
the undried lid, and which rough men were ashamed to 
wipe away lest they might unfold their weakness. Gen- 
eral Blackburn" undertook to dispel the illusion, and by 
the employment of his old weapons to break the force of 
the argument. He let slip all his dogs, and attempted to 
worry the game by snapping and barking, but as long as 
he confined himself to bowlings at arguments which were 
untouched and unimpaired, a playful smile only lighted 
up the judge's face; but at length he took another tack, 
and assailed his personal appearance, and drew upon his 
fancy for imaginings derogatory to his personal character, 
and he assayed to laugh him to scorn and throw him into 
contempt. Then I saw the great man's bosom heave, 
and his countenance seemed to grow radiant with a glow, 



576 THE JEWELS OF VIEGINIA. 

the inspiration of the orator filled his soul. " When 
Achilles was about to draw his sword ao-ainst Ae-amem- 
non, his king and chief, we are told the blue-eyed goddess 
suddenly stood behind him with terrible look invisible to 
every one but himself, seized his yellow hair, and assuaged 
the wrath of the young hero with prudent advice. He 
withdrew his mighty hand from the silver handle, and 
the sword dropped back into the scabl)ard." I^ot so 
Upshur; the blue-eyed Pallas lent him the ^gis of Jove, 
and he shook its flaming boss full in the 03'es of all the 
house. He began with tones that moved the hair on 
your head, and told that his blood was up. He was calm 
as he is who in danger knows no fear ; with measured 
step and slow, he stalked along, and he balanced his 
words in his hands to see that they were well chosen and 
of a proper weight. There was a solemnity around that 
you could feel; he kept removing the little impediments 
from his path, and as he advanced he grew " warm, ener- 
getic, chaste, sublime,'' and when at last he had acquired 
the proper pitch, and felt the key-note had roused his 
brain, he turned upon the foe, 

" And, with a withering look. 
The war-denouncing trumpet took," 

and his words hissed and scorched. x\nd then he left, as 
it seemed, the hateful theme, and he would come back to 
the subject in debate, and with a mellowed voice soft 
tones were dropped, as if the lighter shades were thrown 
in to make the darkness gloomy and the night more black, 
and then he would serenely recall the imputations on his 
person and character that had roused his ire, and assum- 
ing the tones with which he first began, he drove right 
onward, " and still he kept his wild, unaltered mien, Avhile 
each stramed l)all of sight seemed bursting from his 
head." 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 577 

I never shall forget that day. I never shall forget the 
look of the denounced and discomfitted assailant. I never 
shall cease to remember the spell that bound the hearers, 
and how men gave expression to their feelings by press- 
ing around the speaker when he concluded, and giving 
him the cordial grip of the sympathetic hand. Such is 
a faint effort to give you some idea of the manner of the 
roused animated Upshur. 

1 would wish to tell of all the jewels I have mentioned, 
but time will not allow. There are other gems to con- 
stitute the valued ornaments for Yirginia's person. I 
can only name the bright list of her governors in my 
day, whose persons are familiar to my memory as the 
Lares and Penates of an ancient household, many of 
whom have been intimate and personal friends, whose in- 
estimable woi'th I have seen tried in that hard test of 
merit, the alembic of party feeling and party vitupera- 
tion, and who have come out of the contest like pebbles 
from the depths of ocean, whiter and more polished by 
the very agitation of the waters in which they have been 
revolving. 

Of Wm. H. Cabell and James Barbour, Wilson Gary 
Nicholas, James P. Preston, Thomas Mann Randolph 
and James Pleasants, my father's associates, boon com- 
panions and bosom friends, who came to his house in 
social intercourse, and indulged in the pleasantries of un- 
reserved, unrestrained conversation, interchanging fre- 
quent, rich and intellectual repasts. 

I have heard them reading over the rough drafts of 
their messages, intended for the General Assembly, and 
listened to his and their comments, and caught from 
them the ardent desire so frequently expressed, to do 
something to develop the resources, protect the interests, 
and defend and maintain the rights of their native State 
— to educate the minds, and build up the fortunes of the 



578 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

humble among her citizens — to establisli, adorn and 
fructify Virginia through all her borders. 

And from the commencement of my official career to 
its termination, I can only mention, with high respect 
and esteem, the names of William B. Giles, John Floyd, 
Littleton W. Tazewell, David Campbell, Thomas W. 
Gilmer, James McDowell, William Smith, John B. Floyd, 
Joseph Johnson, Henry A. Wise and John Letcher; and 
her acting governors, Wyndham Robertson, John M. 
Patton, John Rutherfoord and John M. Gregory. What a 
space in the eyes of the nation have not these men filled ? 
How dear have they been in tLie just affections of the 
people. How ardently they too strove to elevate the 
name of Virginia. How they gloried in endeavoring to 
save the Union hj preserving tlie Constitution, straining 
every nerve to check the unlimited exercise of ungranted 
powers, and to restrain the different departments of the 
government within their respective spheres, uttering con- 
tinued warnings and thrilling appeals to prevent sectional 
jealousies and sectional strife, and foreshadowing with 
gloomy forebodings the gathering storm, while the}^ 
solemnly and ardently hoped for the preservation of 
peace. God, in His wisdom, willed it otherwise ; brothers' 
hands have been imbued with brothers' blood, and woe,, 
with unnumbered ills, has followed in the wake of deso- 
lating war. How sad it is to look over the bright cata- 
logue, and note liow few there are who have not gone 
to the silent tomb; and though 

" Their fame on brightest pages. 
Penned by poets and by sages, 
Shall go sounding through the ages;" 

yet the very monuments that were reared to honor their 
names have been torn from the State and obliterated 
from her record. Oh ! it was thought that if a portion 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 579 

of Virginia's territory sliould bear tlieir honored names, 
it would be a monument more enduring than marble or 
bronze; but it has been reserved for him who occupies 
that executive chair that each of them graced and adorned 
to perpetrate the deed, and to have been one of the fore- 
most to obliterate our ancient boundaries, and to give 
the counties that bore tlieir names to a bastard State. 
Better that they should have " been cold and dead, and 
lying low," than to have heard "the wailing of our 
people in their woe." Shame on the sons of the State 
who aided in accomplishing the deed. Shame on the 
men of the nation who ratified the outrage. Shame on 
the men 

" Who would have our proud eagle to feed on the eyes 
Of those who have taught him so grandly to soar." 

I can barely allude to the long list of her judges. 
Her revered, honored, simple hearted, learned Marshall; 
her Wythe and Pendleton, her Tuckers — I could dwell 
upon these names and their exalted worth; her Roane, 
Brooke, Carr, Cabell, Coalter, Daniel, Brockenbrough, 
Lomax, and Stanard. Justice, according to the ancient 
poets, was depicted with a bandage over her eyes, indi- 
cating that she could not be impartial unless deprived of 
her sight. Such men as the^e, with eyes unfettered, and 
with minds unbiased by passion or prejudice, could hold 
the scales of justice with even balance, and dispense her 
fair and equitable judgments without exciting a murmur 
of discontent. Their opinions were everywhere received 
as sound and true interpretations of the subtleties of law 
and of constitutional right. Can you imagine anything 
more abhorrent to the feelings of such men, tlius versed 
in constitutions and laws, and in the principles of free 
government, as adopted and adored until now by the 



580 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

people in every State in the Union, than to see the mili- 
tary superior to the civil power, contemning and control- 
ling its judges after a proclamation of peace, and denying 
the writ of habeas corpus, with petty militarj^ commanders 
refusing to obey it. Judges lending themselves to the 
dirty work of packing juries, and suborning and paying 
witnesses to testify falsely against the purest and best 
men in the land. Aye, judges confiscating property, and 
rendering judgments in their own favor, to secure that 
property for themselves; denying the representative of a 
brave and noble people, — who had been insulted, manacled, 
and confined in the unwholesome cell of a dungeon, in 
the strongest fort in the world, — tlie right to know the 
offence for which he was incarcerated, to be confronted 
with his accusers, and the right to a speedy trial by an 
impartial jury; a right secured in the Constitution to the 
meanest person accused of any offence ; a right which the 
great men of Yirginia and of every other State declared 
to "pertain to them and their posterity as the basis and 
foundation of government." What would such men as 
Marshall, and VV^ythe, and Roane have said if they had 
been asked by a committee of Congress if they could pro- 
cure a jury in their courts to convict a criminal? I can 
imagine the look from the flashing eye of the old chief 
justice. It would have indicated that he felt the question 
was an insult, and he would have retorted that Yirginia 
judges never packed juries at the bidding of any authority 
for any purpose. He would have added, that no man 
who had the character to be summonec,! on a jury could 
be found who would act if he had made up his mind to 
convict any prisoner, and that the judge who would in- 
struct the sheriff to summon a jury for such a purpose 
would be as base as the juror who would do his bidding. 
Such would be tlie language of any man worthy to be a 
judge. He would sooner rest with the blessed, until 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 581 

" The last and dreadful hour 
This crumbling pageant shall devour," 

than be the hateful instrument to execute a hateful pur- 
pose by corrupt means of degrading a proud and great 
man who has become the very embodiment of a proud 
and grand people. Corruption may do its worst, but fet- 
ters and dungeons cannot bind the soul, or disturb the 
mind conscious of rectitude and glorying in virtue. Such 
judges as these, though, would have rejoiced to see that 
the supreme court have at last had the firmness to throw 
themselves into the breach, and to decide that the military 
must be subservient to the civil power, and that no more 
trials of civilians shall be permitted before military tri- 
bunals on any pretence whatever. With such decisions 
as those, we may say, there is a department where justice 
and right predominate, and there is a spark of the old 
fire kindling on liberty's altar. Perchance it may burn 
pure and bright as in other days. 

Few men in any government have had a finer oppor- 
tunity to learn the capacities, the feelings, and principles 
which actuate the mind and elucidate the character of 
public men than I have had while seated at the humble 
desk in the legislative and executive halls of the State for 
the last forty years. But why do I call it humble, when 
the ofiice of the clerk of the House of Delegates has been 
occupied by such men as Edmund Randolph, George 
Wythe, William Wirt, James Pleasants, William Mun- 
ford, and St. George Tucker, men of far-reaching intel- 
lects and exalted virtues ? By Randolph, the first attor- 
ney-general of the state, and the first attorney-general of 
the United States, who had been a member of Congress, 
governor, secretary of state under General Washington, 
and member of the conventions which adopted and ratified 
the Constitution of the United States. By Wythe, the 



582 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

pure and virtuous chancellor, who had been in the house 
of burgesses, member of the conv^ention, member of Con- 
gress, signer of the declaration of independence, speaker 
of the House of Delegates, judge of the court of appeals, 
member of the conventions on the Constitution of the 
United States, reviser of the State laws, professor of law 
at William and Mary College, and a philosopher, instill- 
ing into the minds of his pupils principles of virtue and 
wisdom. By Wirt, the chaste, refined, and eloquent ora- 
tor, chancellor, district-attorney, and attorney-general of 
the United States. And by Pleasants, distinguished for 
high public and private virtues, who had been member 
of Congress, United States senator, governor, member of 
the convention of 1829-'30, and was twice appointed 
judge, but modestly declined to serve from a distrust of 
his own qualifications — a distrust which no one enter- 
tained but himself. To Chancellor Wythe was reserved 
the honor of devising the emblems and motto for the seal 
of the State. On one side were Lihertas, Ceres, Kternitas, 
with the motto, Per sever ai^ do. The blessings of liberty 
and abundance for eternity were to be obtained by per- 
severance. On the other side, Virtus with her foot upon 
the tyrant's neck, and the motto, " Sic semper iyrcmiiis.'''' 
But it was reserved for the wiseacres at Wheeling, or the 
literati at Alexandria, or the officers of those govern- 
ments, I cannot discover which, to change this remnant 
of antiquity, and to mar the unity of these thoughts by 
crowding into the seal the motto, " Liberty and Union." 
Lihertas, with her cap and pileus, was not liberty enough 
for those who were destroying the liberty of the wliite 
race, so they inserted liberty again. And they added the 
word " Union " as entirely appropriate, because the State 
was not in the Union at the time, and the same men 
deny her admission now. Lilierty abridged, and Union 
disunited. For eighty-three years the old seal was deemed 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 583 

good enough for Virginia. If I had the power I would 
obliterate the new motto as one of the first acts connected 
witli the restitution of the State, to vindicate the intellects 
of her great men and the authority of her first conven- 
tion. Let the seal of George Wythe remain unblurred 
by the Alexandria usurpation. Now that the old State 
is razeed into District No. 1, let them blur the seal to 
their heart's content — its emblems and mottoes are inap- 
propriate. Let some representative of the Alexandria 
convention haul down the old flag from the Capitol, and 
throw it into the garret. But you can never erase from 
the soul of an old-fashioned Virginian the burning desire 
to see Virtus with her foot upon the tyrant's neck : 

"You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will, 
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still." 

The greater the oppression, the greater the tyranny — the 
more glorious will the old motto be. 

I have been told that the last legislature recognized 
this interpolation upon the seal by enacting that the seal 
now in possession of the secretary of the Commonwealth 
should continue to be the seal of the State. If that seal 
was adopted without a shadow of authority, as I believe 
is the fact, I do hope the act will be repealed and the old 
seal revived. 

It is a great pleasure to me sometimes to look back 
into the past, and pleasantly to recall the men of other 
days with whom I have been associated ; and there is no 
reminiscence more delightful than the intercourse I have 
had with the various speakers of the House of Delegates 
whom I have known, or under whom I have served — men 
of whom any State might be proud. Such men as James 
Barbour, Andrew Stevenson, Robert Stanard, Linn Banks, 
Joel Holleman, Thomas W. Gilmer, George W". Hopkins, 
William O. Goode and Valentine W. Southall — men who 



584 THE JEWELS OF YIKGINIA. 

were deeply versed in parliamentary lore, and understood 
the advantage of a rigid application of simple but wise 
rules for the government of assemblies. In those days 
there was comparatively little necessity for the speaker's 
gavel to command order. There was something in the 
richness and mellow tones of old James Barbour's voice 
— something in the commanding, and I may say domi- 
neering, manner of Andrew Stevenson — something in the 
firm, sharp and decisive way of Linn Banks, and in the 
decorum and dignity of each, that generated dignity and 
decorum in all around. There was no confusion, business 
was expedited, system and order prevailed, and the House 
of Delegates of Virginia was a model for deliberative as- 
semblies. In those days I have seen old Peter Francisco, 
the giant sergeant-at-arms, so renowned in revolutionary 
times for his lierculean strength, grasp a stout man by the 
collar with his left hand, and raising him from the floor 
with perfect ease, walk him out of the house for having 
improperly intruded within the bar. There was no neces- 
sity to direct such a sergeant to preserve order in the 
lobby. But these men are all gone. I can only say 
now, twine laurel wi-eaths around their graves, sprinkle 
orange blossoms over their ashes, let them linger in your 
memories, and spring up in sempiternal verdure in the 
gardens where trees of life will flourish. 

And there is no recollection more agreeable than the 
intellectual repasts I have had while witnessing the effects 
of oratory when handled by a skilful master. It is^ 
gratifying to view the power of the human mind upon 
other minds — to see how the master plays upon the strings 
of sympathy; how his reason convinces the judgment of 
otliers; how he animates, refreshes, instructs; how an 
assembly will be swayed to and fro as an earthquake 
makes the mountains reel. I have seen such effects pro- 
duced by the inspirations of the Prestons and McDowell,. 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 585 

by Henry A. Wise, Joseph C. Cabell, and Charles Fenton 
Mercer, and the Masons, and the brilliant and impetuous 
Dromgoole, and Eobert E. Scott, and E. M. T. Hunter, 
and Gholson, and Brodnax, and the Robertsons, and 
Flournoy, and Edmunds, and John Thompson Brown, 
the bright and morning star : men who would have 
graced any station — men with brilliant genius and erudi- 
tion, with the amor patriae warm in their hearts, and 
glowing and passionate expressions of filial piety to Vir- 
ginia dropping from their tongues ; men who had imbibed 
their ideas of government from the fathers of the Revolu- 
tion, and would have scouted and scorned the political 
vagaries, and heresies, and radical rabies of the present 
day ; men who, like Dromgoole, could ride on the whirl- 
wind and direct the storm, or who, like John Thompson 
Brown, with plaintive voice and dulcet tones, seemed to 
be dipping his fingers in purest water, and drawing forth 
melody from the gentle vibrations of musical glasses. 

While my theme confines me to Virginia's jewels, and 
I have therefore mentioned none others, yet I am not 
limited to the boundaries of the State, and if time would 
permit, I would open caskets full of bright ornaments. 
Such men as William Henry Harrison and Zachary 
Taylor, presidents of the United States, military gems, 
endowed M'ith gold medals, emblazoned with emblems 
and devices of victories and gallant triumphs. Virginia 
rocked them in her cradle and dandled them on her knee ; 
their honors are her honors, and history has recorded and 
etched their achievements into the very memory of man- 
kind; and Henry Clay, the glorious old orator and patriot, 
whose fame is as undying as any of them; and William 
H. Crawford, and William C. Preston, and John S. Pres- 
ton, and John J. Crittenden, and Sterling Price; and I 
could surround their names with governors of other States, 
senators and representatives, cabmet ministers, foreign 
37 



586 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

ambassadors, officers of the army and navy, judges and 
professors, bishops and clergy, authors, historians and 
poets, who have proudly claimed Virginia as their native 
land, and filled their high offices witli honor to themselves 
and advantage to their fellowmen. 

And, besides all these, there are jewels of the public 
press, that great power in free government that cannot 
be overlooked, whose wheels, like Ezekiel's vision of the 
cherubim, are instinct with eyes to enable them to dis- 
cover what is passing, and with wings spreading in every 
direction to carry information with the rapidity of the 
wind. Among these I can but mention Thomas Ritchie, 
the old Napoleon of the press, and John Hampden Pleas- 
ants, the javelin to pierce and the keen-edged sword to 
cut and to slash, and O. Jennings Wise, the hero of 
Roanoke Island, as bright with the pen as with the sword. 

Swiftly hurrying on as I am, I can only say for the 
gems that have been omitted, go look in your country's 
pages, you will find them there, sparkling like " the stars 
which glitter in the noon of night;" and I can imagine 
that all the stars in the heavens are but the mild and 
speaking eyes of Virginia's sons, looking down with smiles 
upon their mother — smiling because invested with power 
to see that the dark shadow which at present eclipses her 
once radiant disk will pass away, and her light will shine 
again in accustomed splendor. 

If you will bear with me a little longer, I am coming 
down to later times, when the usurpations of the Federal 
government, prophesied or foreshadowed by our fathers, 
caused the southern States to attempt to assume among 
the powers of the earth a separate and independent station, 
I am coming down rapidly to the time when Virginia, 
feeling these usurpations as either immediate, or threat- 
ened as ultimately certain, assembled her other memor- 
able convention, and having exhausted all powers of con- 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 587 

ciliation, and used all proper and jealous precautions, 
united her fate with that of her southern sisters. It was 
the power she interposed between the government and 
the other States that made her soil the chief battleground 
of the dreadful contest, and brought upon her desolation 
and anguish. It was her devotion to the cause that im- 
pelled her to throw wide open the doors of her treasury, 
and devote all her finances to the accomplishment of the 
common purpose ; to throw open her arsenals, and dedi- 
cate all her military stores and great resources to the 
common defence ; to bring forward her priceless jewels, 
her peerless sons, and bid them offer in her name their 
glorious services, and lay down, if need be, their valued 
lives to vindicate a people's honor. Nothing did she 
withhold ; all was perilled. Every thitig was absolutely 
sacrificed. And this is the reason to-day that she is at 
the mercy of those who know no mercy, and is bereft of 
her rights by those who have no magnanimity in their 
souls. But though we are thus bereft, we have yet the 
poor privilege of returning " thanks to-day that neitlier 
our terrible sufferings, nor the abuse of our enemies, have 
converted us into base poltroons, nor taught us to heap 
dust and ashes upon the history, memories and traditions 
of the joys and sori-ows of our grand but fruitless struggle 
for national independence." 

And while hope seems hopeless, we have learned a 
lesson of patient endurance, and been taught that we 
must wait until those who are now revelling with the 
strong and aiding the mighty shall themselves feel the 
grasp of the wrongdoer, and have their rights wrested 
from them, and shall see the necessity of peacefully ap- 
plying some remedy other than that to which we resorted 
with all the powder that God had given us. 

These were trying times, when the assembled Congress 
of the Confederacy pondered over the affairs of the un- 



588 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

recognized nation. When all the nations of the earth 
were looking on at the fearful fray, and while in their 
hearts they could not but applaud the noble resistance 
we were making, yet coldly threw every obstacle in our 
way, and permitted their hundreds of thousands to swell 
the million against us, and gave us the neutrality that 
benefitted the United States alone. Oh ! those were try- 
ing times, when our Randolph and Seddon in the cabinet, 
our Hunter and Preston and Caperton in the senate, and 
our Tyler and Rives and Bocock and Lyons and Baldwin 
and Brockenbrough, Russell, Preston, Johnston, Goode, 
Garnett and Chambliss and others were, day by day and 
night after night, encouraging and strengthening the na- 
tional arm; and though differing as to the best course, 
and objecting often to the policy pursued, yet ever dem- 
onstrating that, let who would falter, Virginia was stead- 
fast in her resolution, and would maintain her faith to 
the utmost extremity. No man in that assembly or else- 
where, when he talked of failures or losses, or submission, 
could point the finger at Virginia and say, "You did it." 
When slie failed, it was after a desperate struggle. When 
she encountered losses, they were accompanied by four- 
fold losses to the enemy, that made him stagger and reel. 
Wlien submission came, it was the submission of all; but 
she was there, if possible to avert it — overwhelmed, not 
dismayed. When hope fled affrighted and desolation 
reigned supreme, she was there to bear the brunt. 

My friends, I cannot quit my exhaustless theme with- 
out pausing for a moment to bestow one grateful ac- 
knowledgment to those who survive this dreadful ruin — 
one teaiful eulogium upon those who gave their lives in 
the fruitless endeavor to redeem their country from de- 
gradation and oppression. I would I could dwell upon 
the brilliant achievements of our noble armies and the 
personal daring of their great commanders. I would I 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 589 

could record all the glories that glittered around our 
handful of famous but unfortunate ships, and that decked 
the l)rows of their intrepid officers, I can barely recite 
the names of a few of Virginia's warriors, and must 
leave it to our sister States to perpetuate the memories 
of their heroes and patriots. I mast leave tlie record to 
be illustrated and graven in never-dying measures by the 
Homers and Shakespeares who shall spring from the 
halls of our literary institutions, where moral grandeur 
shall be tauglit by the gi'eatest of those heroes and pa- 
triots. I must leave to some gifted orator, with his soul 
elevated by the inspiration of a Randolph, an Upshur, or 
a Wise, to pour forth eulogies in their praise so exalted 
that " the w^orld should listen then as I am listening 
now." I can only recall the bright list of names, and 
bid you recall the devotion you felt towards them when 
the}' rode upon their war steeds, with small, compact and 
intrepid bands of soldiers near them, and the once proud 
banner floating o'er them. 



" For though conquered, you adore it ; 
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it, 
And weep for those who fell before it." 

l^ames of Robert E. Lee, and Joseph E. Johnston, and 
Thomas J. Jackson, and Early, and Stuart, and Ashby, 
and the Lees, and Rosser, and Beverley Robertson, and 
Thomas T. Munford, Ewell, Armistead, Magruder, Hill, 
the Joneses, Rhodes, Wise, Floyd, and Talliaferro, Pen- 
dleton, Anderson, Kemper, Fryor, Corse, Pegram, Im- 
boden, Heth, Garnett, Edward Johnson, Lomax, Mosby, 
Hunton, and Smith, and Allen, Preston, Cummings, 
Harris, Echols, Cocke, Gibbons, Garland, Walker, Terry, 
Brockenbrough. 

Oh ! how their bright faces are cherished in the al- 
bums of our memories : how the incidents of their lives 



590 THE JEWELS OF VIKGINIA. 

are garnered among onr treasures ; how we pity the un- 
known private, as he passes hy with his armless sleeve, or 
his single leg, hobbling on his crutch — unknown, but hon- 
ored in our hearts ; how the youths and the boys hang 
upon the recital of all their glories ; how the faded uni- 
forms will be hung up and preserved ; and the very but- 
tons that clasped their bosoms will become precious keep- 
sakes and amulets. Power may endeavor to secrete them, 
by meanly cutting them from the coat of one who, from 
his poverty, had nothing else to wear; but the}' will be 
hid among the trinkets of our maidens, and l)e wept over 
by mothers as relics of a dying son ; and the button from 
the coat of Lee or Jackson will in after time be purchased 
in other climes, where greatness is admii-ed, as priceless 
mementoes. Men will cherish the memories and tradi- 
tions of the wounded, and the immortal dead who perished 
in what thej^ believed a holy cause. They cannot forget 
their own rejoicings and cheerings for victories, nor the 
sorrows and meanings for the defeats of our harrassed, 
outnumbered and overpowered veterans. They will not 
forget the purity of our women, nor the sacrifices they 
made, nor the works of their hands, nor their ministra- 
tions to the sick, the wounded, and the dying, nor their 
animating presence, the w'ave of the parting hand, nor 
the cheer of their excited voices, rousing the sinking 
spirit in time of gloom, and encouraging their loved ones 
to daring and peril for the sake of country. 

Oh ! we cannot dwell upon them now, but we will never 
forget, and they cannot tear from our thoughts the his- 
tory and the glorious traditions of Manassas, of Kerns- 
town, Cross Keys, Port Republic, Front Royal, Alle- 
ghany, Winchester, Cedar Creek, of Williamsburg and 
Fredericksbnrg, Chancellorsville, Seven Pines, Harper's 
Ferry, Sharpsburg, Boonsborough, Antietam, Middle- 
town, and Gettysburg, and Chickahominy, Mechanicsville, 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 591 

Ellyson's Mills, Beaver Dam Creek, Gaines' Mill, Cold 
Harbor, Garnett's Farm, Malvern Hill, Drewry's Bluff, 
and Petersburg, nor Roanoke Island, nor Donelson, nor 
Shiloh, nor Yicksburg, nor Cliickamauga, nor Pea Kidge, 
nor Charleston, nor the mighty struggles over mountain 
and valley, moor and hill, from the Potomac to the Kio 
Grande. 

But I weary you with my long detail. The glories of 
these fields in this day need no description. And though 
the Southern Confederacy has gone down never to rise, 
and her name is not among the list of nations, she will 
be like the sun when he sets, whose "glory remains when 
his light fades away." Oh! we can no more see her 
armies battling for right, and astonishing the world ; we 
can no more see her spotless banner waving over her 
ramparts; we can no more rally her men, or inspire 
breath into her dry bones that she may live. We must 
acquiesce in the hard necessity that is upon us — droop 
our hopes and enfold our conquered cause in our hearts, 
and 

" Furl that banner, for 'tis weary, 
Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary. 

Furl it — fold it ; it is best ; 
For there's not a man to wave it, 
And there's not a sword to save it ; — 
There's not one left to lave it 
In the blood that heroes gave it. 
And its foes now scorn and brave it ! 

Furl it— fold it; let it rest!" 

There is a duty which we still liave to perform — a debt 
of gratitude which we must pay. Our Southern wives and 
daughters have inaugurated the undertaking, and it is 
glorious to follow in their lead. They have collected the 
bones of the mighty dead and furled the banner around 



592 THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 

them ; they have gathered the ashes into urns, and phiced 
them among the monuments and cenotaphs of the ceme- 
tery, and it is their purpose to beautify and adorn the 
place, so that pilgrims may come to it as a modern 
Mecca. They purpose to perform the duty of keeping 
the graves clear of the damp and noxious weed, to freshen 
and chisel deeper the names and the epitaphs on the 
simple tombs affection may rear; to smooth the path and 
turf the plats that surround the walks; to plant roses and 
eglantines, the holly, the cypress, the yew, the laurel, and 
the bay ; to invite the cool shade to protect from summer's 
heat, and let in the sunshine to moderate the winter's cold; 
to interweave the sweetbrier and the vine by the side of 
the murmuring brook; to keep off the rude hands that 
disturb, mutilate, and destroy; and to the peaceful, un- 
disturbed retreat invite the robin and the mocking-bird 
to warble their sweetest lays, 

"And pour their full heart 
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art." 

And when the mother and the sister, the widow and 
the orphan, and the love-lorn maiden shall come to look 
for the lost one, they may feel that 

"They are within the door 
That shuts out loss and every hurtful thing." 

And though they may be weeping sad tears, and bitterly 
wailing that there was 

"Not a pillow for his head, 
E^ot a hand to smooth his bed, 
Not one tender parting said, 
Slain in battle 1" 

May the hand of sympathy lead them to the spot 
where the sad relic is softly inurned, and may they know 



THE JEWELS OF VIRGINIA. 593 

that when the ladies of Virginia have undertaken to 
guard it, that 

" Somebody is watching and waiting for him, 

Yearning to hold him again to her heart; 
There he lies with the blue eye dim. 

And smiling, child-like, lips apart : 
Tenderly bury the fair young dead. 

Pausing to drop on his grave a tear ; 
Carve on the wooden slab at his head. 

Somebody's darling lies buried here." 

And you, my friends, are invoked to help in this holy 
work; and when you have done this, then remember that 
the widow and the orphan require your help, and must 
never be permitted to suffer for food, or raiment, or 
liome, or liylit for the orphan mind. 







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